


Swallow Your Pride

by Niedosytnix



Series: Ma'revas'an: Revas'enaste [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Bond Mates, Breathplay, Creator/Forgotten One complex, Dark Solas, Dread wolf Vallaslin, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Everything Hurts, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I know I said no plot but then plot happened, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lavellan failed, Maybe Spirit Sex, Mental Anguish, Minor Violence, Multiple Orgasms, New Elvhenan, Oh gods what have I created?, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Post Trespasser, Post fall of the veil, Psychological Warfare, Redemption, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Sorta Hate Sex for a while there, Sorta courtship, Tasteful Spirit Lovin', Two Endings, Unhealthy Relationships, You probably didn't come here for feels but there might be some, dominant solas, implied tranquility, omg I can't believe I just typed that, tattooing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niedosytnix/pseuds/Niedosytnix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was bound to him, the Wolf that had stalked her dreams, the Wolf that took everything she loved.  The Veil fell and all that remained to her was <i>him</i>.  Her denial of his increasingly desperate wish was all she had left in her once vast command.  At long last he finally gave her a choice instead of cruelly making it for her- <i>Surrender or meet your end</i>.</p>
<p>He'd finally defeated her at far too great a cost to the people, the Forgotten One to his Creator, the cutting edge that was once his heart to the gaping hole in his chest.  His Pride demanded she return and surrender could take many forms-</p><p>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Some <i>harsher</i> than others.</p>
<p>A potential ending to the story of the man who loved Freedom.<br/>
And the woman who loved Pride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Emperor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song [Castle by Halsey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rfSHisyHdc).  
> Carefully tended into [Messenger by Elizaveta](https://soundcloud.com/elizaveta/2-messenger).
> 
> Stand alone smut piece but also eventual Part 4 of this series, not fic canon- a "what if" result in which Revas did not partake of the Vir'abelasan and tried to disband the Inquisition and failed. Ultimately leading to her downfall as she stood alone between Solas' forces and the armies of the world.
> 
> The second half of this fic is basically an apology for the first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [7/20 - added 1k words (mostly prettier language, a few elaborations, a slight change in tone.) - [Original Version](https://marevasan-after-dark.tumblr.com/private/147677538069/tumblr_oalgudEW3M1vxlysn) if you want it.]

His people lined the gilded paths of his empire. Watching, whispering as the Wolf's Herald walked a solitary line through the city. She kept her head held high in defiance. Though, in truth she was afraid to look down, sure that her steps stained the stones as she walked them. In this land foreign in its brightness, foreign under that strangely shifting sky, where intent changed reality- it was a disturbingly distinct possibility.

One she was now intimately familiar with.

The falling of the Veil had sundered the immutable plane. The survivors endowed with the magics that once again sustained the people. And all who walked the world left impressions, spells woven as easily as steps, dangerously unhindered. The earth bowed before them once more and strong sentiments had to be tempered lest they draw the attention of spirits that roamed freely- spirits that were just as freely corrupted by the twisted hearts of the unwary. Strong sentiments were never wise, but they were all she had left and she had long since turned away from Wisdom.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the reactions she garnered. Offense at her savage trappings, her travel worn and bloodstained Dalish armor, the ragged wolf pelt that adorned her head and shoulders, the head of which frozen in a snarl casting her face in shadow. It did nothing to dull her blood red vallaslin, the wolf's vallaslin etched on her features. The only one marked in his barefaced empire, she was the one sentinel who didn't kneel. It was that more than anything else that defined why she didn't belong in this painfully elegant sanctuary, with his people in their beautifully wrought clothes and their exquisitely orchestrated lives, her very presence an affront. Disdain, fear, the rare curiosity hung heavily about them as she walked, creating wavering walls to further enforce the boundary of her path, warping the very air around them. She gave in, letting her pain paint her steps, marking the stones with her darkened demeanor, willing it to sink in deep. They would not remove it easily, if they could at all. The shocked gasps rippling outward from her silent curse spread uneasiness in her wake. It almost delighted her, knowing the timid tripped over one another in their desperate bid for distance. She was their new Forgotten One to oppose his Creator, though he made sure all knew her name. She had once been Freedom; now all that was left in her was pain.

She had failed to stop him from decimating the world. Elvhen slow and quick, spirits who now walked the world were all that remained. They were one people now and he gathered them all while she turned away, gathering the remnants, the ancients in wild places that worshipped the dark. Refusing to join his side in her agony, her failure, she chose exile with the rest. Succumbing to darken the ever shifting wilds, they crowned her his opposite, desperately clinging to survival as the wilds grew less and less so with his conquest. Her previously peaceful refusal did nothing to stop him from pursuing her, relentlessly, and he had fired the first shot that woke her wrath. His last attack had decimated her forces, there was no room for rebellion in his perfect world and he would allow no one else to bear the mantle he wore so traitorously well. She had grit her teeth and surrendered to his generals, he had not even deigned to defeat her in person. A bitter promise made that she would return to him in exchange for her life, such a wretched thing that it was.

It was a long walk to his palace, set high above all else.

As she drew near, gilded guards peeled off from the crowd, flanking her, escorting her up the long stone steps. She paid them little mind- having left her physical weapons in the wilds beyond his realm, though they were undoubtedly aware that her body remained a weapon. Her left hand a writhing dark ghost of its former self, her will made manifest to replace the missing appendage. The obscure void of it reflected her anger and frustration at being brought so low before him. Her heart the cutting edge he once bade her to forge. They were merely a formality, an extravagant show of force to embellish his victory in the eyes of his people.

He knew it would only be a matter of time, and he'd told her such. Her former lover’s offer still stood, he would raise her up by his side. Yet year by year his terms grew darker the longer she lingered in exile, denying him his pleasure.

He had claimed her all those years ago, forged a bond between them. _"You will want for no other,"_ The ghost of his words. She hadn't realized the entire extent to his intent at the time as his promise settled to permanence in the frantic beat of their hearts- that she would never find her release by any other hand. Not even her own.

It had driven her wild in her fury, mindless in her frustration. Yet she endured, gracelessly clinging to her pride. She would have laughed bitterly that she had become him if not for the sharp edge of her heart rending even the mockery of finer emotions to shreds before they could ever take hold.

The tall arched wooden doors of the palace swung inwards, the subtle pull of air, an invitation beckoning her in further. She had come too far now to turn back, drawn to the magnetic pull of his presence. He _knew_ she was here, he could feel her presence. Their bond had only strengthened with time and it afforded him much intimate insight into her whereabouts, her moods. She had been an object of pain for so long even that had tinged to desire, a reckless need. She could feel his smug pride, his wild excitement, the unabashed lust as she stepped into his hall. The guards left her at the gate as it swung shut once more with the dull thud that closed the last chapter of her miserable life.

The hall was long, its ceiling arched high. It was a beautiful mirror to the towering roads that existed deep beneath the earth. Light elegance opposed to their oppressive dark. She had feared to stand here in his domain as his thoughts toward her darkened. Despite it all, she had wished no ill will on his people, only wanting to be left alone and forgotten as the world moved on without her- certain her own darkness would have corrupted his rule. Though he had proven he was more than capable of destroying them without her influence. It was a reality in her mind starkly at odds with his kindness to his people. He treated them so well, yet his own pursuits of her were never gentle. She was the villain in Fen’Harel’s new tales.

She slowly walked the length of the massive hall, noting that all of the eluvians between the fluted stone pillars stood dark, _locked_. There would be no interruption, no easy escape. As she came to the foot of the dais she finally lifted her eyes to that which she’d avoided, the throne that sat raised up before her, unquestionably transfixed by the figure that sat in the surety of his pride. There was little wisdom in him. Not for her.

He lounged on the throne watching her raptly, one leg drawn up, the other sprawling in front of him. His chin placed upon his fist as his other arm draped the edge of the elaborate stone chair. Dressed in intricately woven black silk, embroidered with a glowing silver metal; it enveloped his slender form in such a way that it left little to the imagination. Not that she needed the reminder- she would never forget the exact lines of his toned features. Nor would he let her, her dreams often filled with his influence despite her ever shifting defenses. The most prominent change took the form of dark strands woven into braids, spilling over one shoulder- He'd grown out his hair, a wolf skull fastened to his forehead, a feral grin fixed on his face as his eyes bore through her. He was exquisitely regal in his restrained ferocity; she mustered every ounce of her will to keep from closing the distance, to keep from supplicating herself at his feet. The pull of his blatant desires, the strength in his unspoken intent was difficult to withstand. It hurt to look at him yet she was unable to break his gaze now.

“At last my little wolf _comes_ to me.”

A darkened mirth issued forth from his lips at his turn of phrase while his lust flooded their bond. Her legs trembled at the sound, at the overwhelming sentiment as it ignited the familiar burn in her core. He would have to try harder than that to break her resolve, she defiantly kept her footing.

He retracted his last, “Ah perhaps not yet, but you will… _Soon_.”

His gaze grew sharp as he turned his full attention on her, no longer half a step in dreams. The entirety of his presence fed the growing pit of fear. He'd never allowed her a choice before, cruelly forging onward in his selfish pride, _demands or denials_ was all he had for her. That she chose him over dying had tipped her hand- that she feared to end her life, feared that it would leave her somewhere worse, feared it more than _him_. It was unwise to give the trickster god weapons of that magnitude. Perhaps he had only given her the illusion of choice.

“It is customary for the surrendering party to bend their knee. I do not fault you for the slip in your manners... _This time._ You have long been in lands without them, _my little wolf_.”

She ground her teeth at his audacity. The muscles in her jaw working furiously to keep her mouth shut, biting back the futile retorts that came to her. She stood her ground.

A decidedly amused look crossed his features. A soft wistful sigh left him, starkly out of place in their stalemate. “I always did love that indomitable will of yours.” He templed his fingers beneath his chin, “ _Very well_. Shall I dominate it?”

She wasn't prepared for the sheer force of his desire as he conveyed it, forced it through their bond. A weak whimper fell from her lips as the air around her grew heated. She cursed herself, if she couldn't deny him her body she had hoped to deny him her voice. To have failed so easily was disheartening. She trembled, doubled over, hands digging into her knees, yet she stayed standing. She had endured for years, she could endure _this_.

He hummed his growing delight, “That was a magnificent bow, _vhenan_ , yet not what I asked for. I want you on your _knees_.”

She snapped upright, her outrage grew from growl to guttural as she made her indignation known through the threads that shackled them. Her voice hoarse from disuse, rough with want, carried harshly- Little more than a slap in her words. _“How **dare you-**_ you have _no right_ to call me _that_ , not after everything you've done to me!” Half a beat later she cursed herself for the slip.

Her simultaneous failure and insolence only excited the look in his eyes further. “ _Oh_ , but it’s true _vhenan_ , you chose me _willingly_. I did warn you to be careful what you asked for.” He leaned forward slightly, his tone clipped with a fleeting impatience, “I have every right. You are _mine_ , you've always been mine, and you will _always_ be mine.” His gaze roamed her form lazily as if the sheer intent in his gaze could force her to unravel the rigidity of her stance. “My markings on your face make that apparent to any who would look upon you. Perhaps I shall mark you in other ways.” He trailed into a groan at the admission, his arousal escalating to dangerous heights.

She was so tightly wound she couldn't tell where the pleasure she felt from him ended and where her pain began, they were two heated sides of the same coin. Tendrils of fire snaked through her veins as she shook. It was almost enough to entertain the thought of dropping to her knees, yet she knew that wouldn't be the end of it- not even close. One small gesture would not turn back the years of hurt.

“It seems I will have to do this my way, I had hoped you would give in willingly.” His eyes flashed with that dangerously cold glow as she felt the compulsion build around his will.

**“Kneel vhenan.”**

Her markings woke in a flash of red, the direct connection of his command seized her as she fought the words with her fury. **_“You dare?!”_** She spat.

A rueful smirk played about his lips, “You should have let me cast my spell.”

The pain of denying his will became overwhelming but it was not the denial that broke her. It was the small voice the years of pain hadn't succeeded in stamping out- the careworn whisper of a lighter sentiment still longing for his touch. Her resolve faltered- a small crack splintered through her, jolting to her core. _It was such a small weakness_ , but it was enough for it to take hold. She sank to her knees before him _immediately_ , shaking with her anger, glaring up at him with all the spite she could muster. The smugness on his face only fueled her ire as she directed her will to darken his hall.

He subverted her effort with ease, rewarded her with the caress of his magic then, her anger quickly turning to unabashed ecstasy. A willing moan fell from her lips uncaring in her feeble attempt to stifle it. _It was too much._ The soft sensation of his spell roaming her body, a gentle touch she didn't deserve. She shuddered as it ran in long strokes down her form, pooling low between her thighs before a flick of his fingers sent it thrusting up through her, igniting her core. He repeated the effort languidly, almost bored in his attention as he brought her to that maddening brink before dispelling the caress. It left a heated emptiness in its wake, marred by the sensation of cold stone against her brow. She was quietly devastated with the realization that she had prostrated herself before him, her forehead pressed to the floor. The sound of her panting echoed through the empty hall, he chuckled darkly, snapping her from her daze, wrenching her from the illusion that she was all that existed in this wanton void where pleasure once flowed.

When she finally gathered the resolve to look up he had freed his length from his trappings. It stood proudly erect, jutting up in harsh contrast to his relaxed form. She quickly averted her gaze, pressing back to the welcoming stone, willing the chill of it to douse her heat. It was largely unsuccessful. A fire made its home in her skin at the sight of him bared, aching in seditious anticipation.

“Come here vhenan.”

Her breath hitched at the want that resonated through her with his unexpectedly soft tone. She found herself standing, yet there had been no compulsion this time. Her feet carried her closer, _she knew what he desired._ Tentatively she stepped up between his legs, slowly sinking to her knees before him. His anticipation flooding her overwrote all but her longing, the desperate need to feel him.

A sharp grin curved his mouth to a wicked edge, its influence softened only by the desire that hooded his eyes. “Bring me my release little wolf, and I will bring you yours.”

Her teeth sank into her lip as her eyes fluttered shut, knowing the double-edged significance of his tone well- though she carried no hope that he would truly free her from his bonds. At such scant distance from desire she could no longer turn away from the fact that a part of her desperately wanted him, even as changed as he was. Every fiber of her being called out to him and only the lone vein of her wounded pride stubbornly resisted. His feather light touch- the echo of what she sorely missed on her cheek settled the matter with unfortunate ease, drawing her in closer.

He quietly directed her, imparting that she was to remain on her knees, her hands were not allowed to touch him, she was not allowed to pleasure herself, and any sign of teeth... _Would not be tolerated_. He allowed her to make the first move, pressing a trembling kiss to the head of his cock, laving her tongue over the reddened tip, lapping up the ample bitter evidence of his need. He demanded in a low growl that her gaze remain locked to his as she took him into her mouth. His deepening groan emboldened her, flexing her tongue in a hard line down the underside of his shaft as she bobbed her head, sucking firmly with each stroke.

His hand closed around her bare throat as he guided her movements, her muffled whine vibrating up his arm, through his cock as she greedily took his length deeper. He gifted her with a low moan as he suddenly thrust- hitting the back of her throat. His fingers curled around her neck tightened as his gaze grew dark. She tensed as he sharply angled her, taking a quick breath before he pressed inward, slowly filling her. Persisting in his pursuit even as the lengthening bulge in her throat met his fingers, only ceasing when her nose flattened against his stomach. She shook to the sound of his pleasure, desperate for air. He withdrew enough for her to draw a shaky breath before thrusting roughly again, and _again_ before setting a punishing pace. Her eyes streamed as her vision blurred. “Look at me vhenan,” he was lodged deeply in her throat, she couldn't breathe. Her panic rising as she began to reject the obstruction, fighting his grasp. A tight squeeze at her throat snapped her gaze to his. He withdrew from her mouth, allowing her to suck in air with a coughing gasp. He tutted as he thrust back beyond her lips, tugging her by the throat even as he rolled his hips. She kept her eyes locked to his as he took his pleasure. His groans grew to a long heated growl as she felt him near his release. The telltale swell of his cock as he thrust deeper heralded an end, expecting him to spill down her throat- shocked as he suddenly pulled out to grind against her tongue his grip a vice around her neck as he throbbed in her mouth. A desperate moan reverberated through her as she felt him come undone in their bond. She sucked hard locking her mouth tightly around him as he threw back his head in a wanton groan, his seed spilling in short heated waves, filling her mouth as the hand around her neck tightened further. Her vision swam as he rocked out the vestiges of his release. The heat of her need rising reached a fevered pitch as he met her strained gaze with approval. He slowly withdrew his still hard length, and she had no doubt that until he granted her release her sustained arousal in their bond would keep him insatiable. With a carefulness that was its own kind of cruelty he thumbed the trail of dampness from her cheek.

“Swallow your pride, little wolf.”

He eased his grip on her neck as she obliged, swallowing his seed as if it alone could sate her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how many times I had to watch Lavellan punch Solas in the face to keep this from turning to eventual fluff, even then it still might. I have a problem.


	2. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [7/21 + 680ish words - Now with like 20% more defiance- but also grudging acceptance. Tidied language, prettied things up. [Original Chapter HERE](https://marevasan-after-dark.tumblr.com/private/147677996244/tumblr_oalhblOOjv1vxlysn).]

She didn’t miss the unrestrained heat in his eyes as she obeyed his command.

He leaned forward even as she fought the urge to flinch away; he grasped her chin with the lithe strength of his fingers. She reflexively recoiled in actuality at the touch. It earned her another rough intrusion of her mouth as he inserted his thumb, hooking her jaw as he brought her forehead to rest against his. The wolf skull that adorned his hairline fought the head of her pelt for dominance as their skin met, his winning the confrontation as the hood of her pelt fell back. It was such a fitting metaphor, perhaps the walls of his palace would soon be adorned in paintings of this victory of his. The wild spark in his desire blown eyes chased away all organized rebellion as he engulfed her with his gaze.

“My you are tense, little wolf.” Even as he uttered those words, she felt him pluck the strings of their bond as if it alone could unravel her. It sent a shiver through her as he released her jaw, gently probing her mouth with his thumb, running the pad of it over her swollen lips. "Fear not ma lath, I keep my promises, but you are not yet ready for me." His touch left her mouth, and only his gaze betrayed what came next as he swiftly grasped the back of her neck, crashing his lips to hers, devouring her gasp. The deft advance of his tongue twisting against hers shook a weak moan from the depths of her bruised throat, he readily took it from her. Spellbound and robbed of her air, assaulted by his desire, she felt weakness creep upon her. Just the blue of his eyes survived the encroaching darkness as hers shut and when she was sure she'd pass out he reversed the cast of his pull. Exhaling a breath like fire into her, only allowing her to breathe in what he gave, searing her lungs with his life, his magic. She opened her eyes to the enduring ferocity in his gaze as he withdrew far enough to bite her lip, drawing blood as he sucked it clean. He was entirely sharp edges for her as he reclaimed her inch by inch and she finally came to terms with the likelihood this encounter would kill her.

He released her as he removed her mantle, fondly caressing her pelt as he sat back folding it in his lap. Even as she watched dazed, it seemed to be repairing itself. His touch casting a renewal, the ragged fur shifting to a shining dark, soft as his fingers wound through it. The obscene tenderness of his touch left her wanting.

His gaze grew mischievous. “Jealousy? Oh vhenan, none could replace my heart. It is not you that offends me, merely the death that adorns you. I do not appreciate the slight, but do not worry yourself. I will divest you of it.” The crack of his fingers heralded her immolation. A panicked cry tore from her throat as her armor burned in white hot flames. Her cry guttered as his spell consumed her air, the heat of it setting her eyes streaming, yet there was no pain. His ire clearly restrained to her garments stained with the blood of his people, stained with hers. When her trappings finally crumbled to dust his spell ceased, she shook, sucking in lungful’s of air, inadvertently bowing before him again in her efforts. Shivering as the heat left her. Her bare form ash stained and soaked with sweat.

He reverently draped her pelt over her frame once more as he stood. Lazily unraveling his clothes as she glanced up at him, "You wear it well vhenan." She ducked her head biting her lip in the familiar gesture and wincing in pain as she aggravated the marks he left there. "Oh now that won't do, on your feet little wolf." She hesitated a second before she felt the compulsion build, hastening to stand voluntarily before he could issue the command. "Very good." She tilted her head, having to look up much further than she expected to meet his gaze with what shreds of defiance remained in her.

He... Was _taller_ than she remembered. They had once nearly seen eye to eye. His new height disparity only punctuated their divide. It gave him a distinct advantage on her she couldn't ignore. She tried not to notice how proudly bare he was before her, nor how the hall seemed to grow colder even as the heat rolling off his form intensified, begging her to close the distance.

He stalked around her, his sure steps pausing out of her view. She fought the urge to turn around as he pressed himself bodily against her back, urging her towards his throne. She obeyed with little resistance, stepping forward as he guided her to kneel on the stone seat. He took her hands in his before flinching at the raw will of her left. He cast a barrier over it, constricting it. "You continue to surprise me vhenan. Such a strong will you still have." He guided her palms to grip the back of the throne, "Your hands will not leave this position." He seemed to require an affirmation, she nodded once, sharply. "Keeping your voice from me my little wolf? Very well, I will drive it from you against your will if I must." A low rumble in his throat was punctuated by his yearning, “I will hear you sing your desire for your release. _I will hear you **beg**_.” She could hear the grin in his words, gritting her teeth, trying desperately to hold onto herself as she felt him make his move, nudging her thighs wider apart.

He abandoned further preface as he pushed the tail of her pelt aside, a rough hand on her hip, the head of his throbbing length sliding frictionless against the entrance of her soaking sex. She held her breath to force the moan that threatened to issue forth to quiet. After several tense moments she reluctantly let her breathing resume as he waited, content to tease her it seemed. The guttural moan that tore from her battered throat shocked her as much as the sudden intrusion of his cock. Her resolve crumbled as she felt how thrilled he was with his victory.

He felt almost too much to take in as she whimpered. She didn’t know if it was her long years without, or if his seemingly larger proportions were along the same vein as his new height. He thrust ever deeper into her aching heat, parting her, forcing her to accommodate him. Her head fell back to his shoulder as she cried out, accepting the entirety of his cock. The fullness of him, the heat of him mixed with hers nearly undid her.

He paused once fully seated within her, allowing her a rare respite to relax around him. As if the steady pulse of his heart she felt captured tightly within her could allow for such things. The quickening cadence of his panting breath filled the hall. A shuddering breath fell from her wounded lip to join it. It had begun to bleed again, the trickle of blood staining the lines of her vallaslin darker as it ran down her throat. She fought the urge to lift her hand to wipe it away, remembering his command laced with warning. It was a small thing to endure if it would appease his cruelty. His lips pressed to her ear and she couldn't help the moan he coaxed from her as his heated words painted her thoughts with his ardor. "Do you like how well I fill you _vhenan?_ Can you feel how well we fit?" A long indulgent groan drifted between sharp teeth that nipped her ear. _"Ohhh you accept me so well ma lath."_ She tensed, seething at him, rebelling against the lull of his lustful tone, letting her will warp the world around her. The hall twisted, darkened with her hate, fluted pillars shifted to twisting vines, gnarled roots sundered the elegant stone floor- the shattering of stone drowning out anything he could say to sway her. Hating how he changed, hating how she needed him. Hating how the answers she wished to give him were _lies_.

A low growl reverberated from him as he curled over her back, his intent guttered hers, forcing the hall back into the shape he desired. The hand not gripping her hip was sliding sensuously up her stomach, teasing her breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers in the same bruising manner she had come to expect. She failed to stifle her gasp. His length twitched within her as he chuckled, it was a mockery of the memory of his light laughter, darkened with desire. His hand slid further, fingers tightening around her neck once more. He was thoroughly enjoying this.

Then he moved and the entire world inverted, she clung to his throne as if it would keep her from falling upwards, his slow thrusts dragging her away from herself. He drove into her hard, each thrust making short work of her remaining determination. He coaxed her hips into a more severe angle and suddenly he was hitting deeper, his thickness pressing against the spot that made her keen without hesitation. The lewd slap of his hips as he thrust harshly echoing with the chorus of her moans, Oh how she wanted this, to finally have her release after all these years. Her pride long forgotten as she begged him, pleaded her lover to complete her as the heat of their combined pleasure began to burn through her. If this was to be her end, then she might as well succumb.

“You are _mine_ vhenan, I will hear you say it, I will make sure you remember it.” He thrust roughly enough to scrape her knees across the cold stone chair as she cried out. Her hands never left their hold on the back of the throne. His grasp on her bruising her hip, her throat. He felt the vibration of her words shaking through his fingers before he heard them. “I am yours… _Fen’Harel._ ” His pace quickened at the admission. The savage tone in which she uttered her defeat seemed to have ignited a feral urge in him. He growled low, “Would you like me to paint your insides with my favor, little wolf?” She knew he would leave her begging for his touch if she denied it. The whimper that escaped her bitten lips was truly telling, “Yes… _Please_...” He stilled himself before slowly withdrawing from her completely as he tutted, “Oh that won’t do, little wolf. _Be specific_.” She cried out in frustration, trying to thrust back as his grasp on her throat tightened and then his hands left her altogether. Her disbelief carried on a high pitched whine, turning around to glare at him. Her spectral hand started to leave it's spot.

"I would not move if I were you little wolf."

She froze with her indignation, tracking his languid pacing as best she could. Her eyes narrowed as he folded an arm over his bare chest, a hand thoughtfully grasping his chin, the bastard was appraising her. _"What are you doing?!"_

"Hmmm?"

The snarl in her voice only served to amuse him, infuriating her further. _**"Why did you stop?!"**_

"I stopped because it is clear you do not know what it is you want."

It appeared he truly wished to hear her say it, he wished her to beg for him. She screamed in frustration, sinking to her heels, leaning forward to press her forehead to the back of his throne. Her attempt to gather her thoughts was quickly stifled by the growing press of his spell wending its way up her thighs. Teasing dangerously close to the touch she needed, yet it refused to acquiesce.

_So she did._

The fight drained from her, and she accepted his dominion. Her intent made clear- she bowed her will before him.

“Do you have your answer vhenan?” She nodded slowly, straightening up as he sauntered close. “Please _Fen’Harel_ , bestow your favor on me.” Her voice trembled as his hands roughly gripped her hips once more, the head of his cock pressed flush against her, “ _P-please_ give me y-your seed.” She was rewarded with the entire length of his cock, a wanton moan falling from her lips as he ground himself against the precise center of her pleasure.

His magic made a reappearance then, undulating over her skin as he thrust into her relentlessly, his pace quickening as he chased their release. She trembled as she reached the precipice, an escalating moan fleeing her lips as the throbbing of his cock within her became more pronounced, he was as close as she, swelling for his release. His spell surged against the bundle of nerves that had been sorely neglected. He hilted deep and she shattered, their mutual release burning through her as potently as the spell that destroyed her armor. She was certain she’d be ashes by the time it ended. White burst across her vision as she screamed his name, it was a sweet agony. Seconds passed as her cries echoed back to her, darkness crept in overtaking the light. It was as though their combined release was all there was, day chased by night, the moment hung for an eternity while they were one. His guttural growl shook through her even as he pulsed and she clenched, his favor spilling hotly within her. Her scream died slowly in her throat as her consciousness fled, leaving only the echoes of her release in the wake of her silence.

~~=~~

He watched intently as she passed out in the throes of her release, her scream suddenly cut short as she lost consciousness. He wound her up in his arms as she pitched forward, arresting her descent, pulling her back against his chest as he finished spilling himself in her. Thrusting once more with a satisfied groan he deftly turned them both, maneuvering to sit on his throne, her unconscious form still joined to his lap. A long laugh rumbled from him. He was initially smug at her reaction, wondering if it said more about his sexual prowess or her prolonged state of tension. What was it the Orlesians had called it? The little death? _Da'din'an._ It seemed they had the right of it.

If he had not been constantly required by the whims of his people he would stay enthroned like this forever, dressed only by her graceful figure draped over his. To rule his kingdom from the center of hers; locked deep in the soft curves of her territory, his territory. He would have all recognize it. Her elegant neck bared with his standard painted in harsh bruises embroidered in marks by his teeth. All would know his claim on her.

_All would know she bent to his will._

In the resolute silence of his amusement a guard slipped into the hall, he did not doubt his guards had heard all that had transpired. His attention lazily drifted between the curve of his lover’s neck and the approaching elf. If the man had any reservations of the state he found them in it didn’t show. He unconsciously gripped his lover tighter, as if his marks branding her form, his length still deep within her, did not already sufficiently claim her as his.

The elf sketched a sweeping bow, a slight smirk on his face, “The people wish to know how you fared, Fen’Harel.”

He growled low, nuzzling her exposed throat. “How I fared should be _apparent_ , tell them. I have claimed my queen, my heart. _She bows to me_.”

The guard stood from his bow, eyes that lingered almost too long, a nod before turning to fulfill his command.

He watched the elf stride from the hall as he entertained the thought of throwing wide the gates, opening his hall to all so that they may set their eyes upon his greatest victory. A dark chuckle spilled from his throat, perhaps another time, he didn’t particularly feel like sharing at the moment.

He traced her form with his fingers, trailing up the sides of her thighs, ghosting up the slight curve of her lean stomach, the soft inside of her slender arms. Languidly painting her form with his touch, he trailed lines of ash in his wake. He shifted his scrutiny to the anomaly, gently lifting her leaden left arm. Her spectral appendage persisted even in her comatose state. He had expected it to gutter with her consciousness. He set her arm down, cataloging her other scars old and new, his gaze lingering over the wolf bite he’d given her when he bonded her in dreams as Fen’Harel. The scar had faded yet still clearly showed his fangs. Her delicate pointed ears caught his scrutiny, they were marred by marks not of his teeth- scars he hadn’t noticed earlier… she used to wear earrings, yet it looked as though they’d been ripped out. Had she been tortured? Did it happen in the middle of some battle? Had she ripped them out herself in a fit of rage? They hadn’t healed cleanly either, he had to assume it was either because she couldn’t heal them at the time, or she felt she needed the scars as a reminder. It needled at him just how many of those reminders she had. Her time spent lost to the wilds had not been kind- small faded victories crisscrossed her sun-kissed skin. It told an uncomfortable tale he wished not to face. His gaze was drawn back to the curve of her neck, the small jump of her pulse twitching tantalizingly beneath her skin. He kissed it lightly, experimentally, suddenly panged that he hadn't led with such kindness. He shook off the sentiment with a small bite, was no matter, she would never have let him in her current state, in how far she had fallen.

In place of his usual state of perpetual tension he felt strangely at peace in the aftermath of his passion, whole for the first time in ages. The sharp blade of her presence reinserted into the old gaping wound, the sudden completeness of his heart did nothing to dull the renewed pain of the stab. The comfort of her presence, even pained as it was, brought him more relief than his fervent efforts. Nuzzling into her neck once more, her scent was the same, underneath the blood and dirt, underneath the pain.

_He had spent years salvaging Elvhenan, perhaps he could salvage her as well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if drunk writing is better than woke-up-at-3am writing, but that's the difference between this chapter and the last. 
> 
> Literally flying by the seat of my pants here. I have no plan, yet I think this could have a happy ending? Probably. I'll think about it some more. Perhaps when I'm not channeling my inner Sheogorath... Ooooor especially when I'm channeling my inner Sheogorath! Ahahaha ohgodimtoodrunkforthistobeanygood. 
> 
> If it's terrible future me will fix it. Promise.
> 
> Either way I expect I can get between 4-10 chapters out of this. Maybe.


	3. The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit wordier than I intended, a little less smutty than I'd like. But to make up for it you lovely people get TWO whole chapters, and the next one more than makes up for it... though, _monkey's paw_ there for a bit.
> 
> [7/22 + 580ish words - edits for new continuity, reaffirming my twisty view of a world changed by intent, tidied up sentences that bothered me. Mostly Solas edits. [Original Chapter HERE](https://marevasan-after-dark.tumblr.com/private/147678602149/tumblr_oalhxq25OC1vxlysn).]

The palace was at peace in the wake of his claim, though he could not afford to falter or grow complacent in her capture. Without her conscious effort to keep her nature in check her intent threatened to darken the world around them. Masking her will was easy, keeping her subtle subversion in check required more focus. Freedom was a fickle thing to contain and he knew it well. It easily settled in the hearts of men, innocent by itself- it could all too quickly grow into rebellion. And though she had darkened, he knew she had not yet become Subjugation. It was a small mercy. One he contemplated as he padded quietly down the corridor to the palace baths, proudly naked, head held high. The evidence of his victory held safe in his grasp. He’d considered throwing her over his shoulder, his prize, his quarry. Yet as he had gazed at the unfocused lines of her face, the soft innocence held there his bitter pride faltered. He’d been transfixed by how fragile she was, she endured burdens that should have been well beyond her. Before he had realized it she was cradled gently in his arms, holding her secure against his chest. That she had already undermined his wealth of anger was disquieting, that even now... She still changed _everything_.

His anger had only grown over the years as she continued to deny him, a slow burn that consumed all of his carefully tended composure. It needled at his pride, each step in their damned dance wounding him further. Yet neither would bow out of the agonizing waltz, ever circling even as he considered forsaking her. He deliberated long on releasing her from their bond. Yet in the world he had restored- the intent would be vital and no matter how she rebuked his increasingly harsher efforts to capture her, he could not find it in his heart to truly let her go. She was a wounded animal, driven far from her nature. He had sensed much from her end of the bond and he knew she could not release him either. It was a distressing point of bitterness for him, she had desperately desired to return to him, yet she denied them both the chance regardless. That was a fault he only weakly tried and failed to blame on her, knowing his success was her failure, his redemption was her undoing. To save what he could meant losing her... He shook the thought violently. It did not matter now.

His sure steps carried them both into the steaming pool, discarding her pelt in a heap at the edge. Wading through the hot water as he slowly sank with her, easing himself to sit on the sunken steps, lowering her to his lap once more. He watched her carefully, though she did not stir. He leaned back resting his head on the edge of the bath, her unconscious form propped against him, her chin just skimming the water. A long satisfied groan echoed from him as the strain of his exertions drained from his muscles. He neither spared a thought for the few elves bathing in the other pools, nor did he care that they had all turned to watch him with rapt curiosity. All that mattered was the fade shrouded woman that held his focus.

His advisors had pleaded with him not to bring her in. She was a corrupting influence on him, they feared for their people, their empire. If they lost the wolf to darkness, all would follow suit. Only they had seen the feral rages she brought out in him, kept carefully hidden from their people. His ire as he pursued her, too many resources spent fighting her, too many lives lost to her followers- _It would have been better to leave her alone_ , they argued. _She clearly had no intent to assault Elvhenan, just leave her to the wilds_. His pride would not allow the slight. He’d done this for her, everything for her, because of her. She’d convinced him it was worth the cost to try again and again until he got it right. He would right this as well, _no matter what._

The pursuit of her had cost him much.

He caught her chin, carefully tipping her head back, studying her soft features adorned in dreams. Wishing her eyes were open, alert so he could gaze upon their fire. He wondered lightly of what she dreamed as he shifted her to the step to fetch up what he needed to tend to her.

Stroking the cloth over her in slow swathes, he washed away the evidence of his anger, the evidence of his claim. The latter bothered him, but it was a small thing to repeat- and one he greatly anticipated. He carefully worked the tangles from her wild locks even as such quiet care coaxed the knots from his heart. The cost it took to claim her weighed less heavily on him as something in him softened almost imperceptibly. She had surrendered to him rather than lose her life. If she could choose him over death... Perhaps he could still turn her heart towards him again. Blunt her sharp edges, undo the damage he'd caused to them both. He could start with healing the damage he'd caused in his blindly spiteful passion.

He carried her to his quarters after he had finished scrubbing her clean, finished healing his trespass upon her skin. Laying her down in his own bed, he watched intently as she slept. She looked so vulnerable, so free, much like how she used to when they'd fall asleep to find each other in dreams- always inevitably falling asleep long before him as he drank in the sight of her. It took a fair amount of his will to keep his distance, to not wrap himself around her. Surprised to find that she still talked in her sleep, yet the things that fell from her lips were no longer the happy nonsensical kind. It seemed her twisted nature had ruined even that as nightmares and fear consumed her words. Reaching for the fade with the barest gesture, he briefly sought her wandering spirit, a quiet barrier- a subtle redirection of her mind to a more peaceful faded realm. It was not easy to withdraw his influence, but he managed after a time, allowing her whatever respite she could find as he settled into his watch.

~~=~~

It was an unexpectedly merciful end. She was encased in light, the soft touch of it on her naked form like silk. The brightness of it all but burned her, like gazing at the sun, filling her with a pleasing warmth. She drifted a while in semi-conscious thought. Being dead wasn't so bad. In fact… being dead smelled strangely of spice and coconut. _Huh_ , she wondered what the scholars would make of that, the beyond smelled like her old bathing supplies. It was a decidedly significant improvement over what her reality had been near the end.

More of her faculties slowly returned to her as an ache flooded her senses, and something else abnormal in its levity emanating from her core. Adoration? More sensations drifted through her, foreign at first- but then she grasped their names. _Desire, Longing, Pride_... A familiar warmth... _Contentment?_ **NO** ... _Love_. She shot up in her panic fighting the silken sheets that threatened to strangle her even as she fought the sentiment washing over her- fleeing its caress. Breathless as she looked around the room wildly. Hardly noticing the dagger she'd conjured in her deceptively intangible fingers. Her disbelieving realization tread upon the stillness that ensued, “I am… still _alive_?”

A bitter pain swelled within her at the admission, the origin of the sentiment went unnoticed to her as she took in the room. She was ensconced in a bed, silk and furs arrayed outward from her waking turmoil, a bright shaft of sunlight had framed her repose, casting a long shadow behind her. It didn't make immediate sense, so she shifted her focus to the room at large. The sheer volume of books the walls held, neatly stacked away on the many shelves lent the room the air of a study. Yet this was clearly a bedroom? _Who's?_ How did she get here? Dispelling the sharp extension of her will, her gaze fell upon her pelt laid out beside her. _It hurt to look at._ The years of wear removed from it, as if her trials, her exile never marred it. She wished she felt so light, so soft and _unscarred._ Her tangible fingers caught and wound in the fur, dragging it up to settle on her bare shoulders, trying to draw strength from the familiar gesture. It did not help much, a weakness plagued her core, sapping at her strength. She finally gathered the courage to look to herself only to find no bruises... no blood. Her lip had been healed, she'd been… _bathed._

The soft _'whisk'_ of paper being disturbed pricked her ears, a page being turned. She froze with the sudden realization of its source. **He** was in _here_ with _her_. She became intimately aware of his proximity through their bond. Those emotions that startled her, they had been his? That couldn’t be right- those were far too soft to come from him. In her half awareness it had been easy to mistake them for her own.

She wondered if she never turned around she could continue to pretend he wasn't there. _Yet_ … he hadn't spoken, hadn't demanded anything of her. It sounded as though he was reading. Mildly probing their bond, she found he was... At peace? His mood was neither overbearing, nor forced on her. It was a gentle current of contentment. _It had to be some sort of mind game, some calculated tactic._ After all this had to be his bedroom, he must have bathed her. Only he would know the scents she favored ages ago. Had he healed her as well? To what end?

The questions jabbed at her even as she thought them. She felt no deception, no trick in his gentle intent. He felt so startlingly like Solas that she ached. A small fear bloomed in her, if she turned around would it be her kindhearted bald lover that sat there? Could he be that for her once more? Could she repair the damage she'd caused them both in her prideful rejections? The ache turned to a fledgling hope that startled her further as it rose in her heart even despite her attempts to quell it, fighting to keep from betraying it to him.

She was largely unsuccessful.

Not even the pain it sent through them both could dislodge it. She succumbed to wondering at the feeling as objectively as she could. It was a lightness the weighted brand of her heart scarcely seemed capable of.

Her gaze grew blind to everything in her path as the entirety of her focus returned behind her. A soft sigh escaped patient lips and she flinched. Silence followed. Another page turned. How long would he content himself to wait?

Her stomach finally broke the silence with a profound rumble. A groan tumbled from her mouth against her better judgement as she clutched at the offending organ. Suddenly the aching weakness within her made perfect sense, she couldn't even recall the last time she ate. The book was closed and set down. Yet he hadn't moved. Certainty set upon her that she could feel his eyes boring into her. She steeled herself, facing him had to be better than starving in this stalemate.

The rush of blood in her veins grew thunderous in her ears and she slowly turned to face him.

Fen'Harel was comfortably entrenched in an elegantly cushioned chair, a sturdy desk sitting between them the _border_. Draped in his dark silken clothes once again, his hair adorned with fewer braids than before. The soft cascade of it over his shoulder awoke a fierce desire to wind her fingers through it. He was staring at her intently, expectantly? She was suddenly very conscious of how naked she was as his gaze roamed her body without restraint. Fighting the urge to cover herself she rose slowly from the sheets. Abandoning her pelt as she slid to the edge of her current domain, her feet met the cold stone floor. She bared herself fully, suppressing a shiver as she stood before him, waiting with a challenge in her gaze.

He rose to his feet, and though she fully expected him to advance his position, he fell back instead, striding to a pile of fabric that sat on a sprawling couch. His voice carried an unexpected gentleness, convincing most thoughts of posturing to flee from her. “Come here little wolf.”

Advancing past the boundary willingly, her curiosity running rampant despite the lack of delimiting furniture between them she came to rest just out of his reach. Without warning he cast a spell, the fabric coming to life as his will shaped it. She started backwards halting only at his command. “Be still vhenan.” The silken cloth wove around her body, shaping itself to her form. Tight leggings and breastband cinched to her skin as a soft tunic formed over her torso. His spell ceased as he admired his work, and she couldn't help but follow his gaze.

It was nearly the same style she once wore, though too fine for her taste. He looked quietly expectant as confusion writ her expression, realizing he’d accepted her challenge in his own way and turned it around, luring her to come to him. He devoured the space between them, grasping her chin as she willed herself not to flinch away. _He noticed._ "Good emm'asha, you learn quickly." The mordant edge in his tone signified that he was fully Fen'Harel once more.

“You are not yet fit to dine with company, so we will dine alone.”

She scoffed at that. He raised an eyebrow as he held out his arm, expecting her to take it. She stared pointedly at him. “I will carry you if I must, though I do not believe you will enjoy it.” Her thoughts of renewed defiance lingered at the admission, but she relented, threading her arm through his, allowing him to steer her if it meant she’d get to eat. She hoped it worth his proximity setting her every nerve on edge.

She was thankful their meal consisted entirely of finger foods, not trusting herself to handle trying not to offend him if it involved weird utensils with strict rules. Even so the urge to grab fistfuls of food only to shove it in her mouth was sorely tempting. The quiet elegance of his being extended to eating it seemed; his momentary contemplation of each morsel, the small involuntary noises of delight as he sipped the wine. It was objectively fascinating, until his attentions returned to her once more. Then she could feel it, something catching irritating under his smooth demeanor.

“Did you come here hoping I would kill you?”

The abruptness with which he asked it suggested he’d been contemplating the question for some time. She answered carefully with little hesitancy, “No, though you didn’t exactly inspire any confidence I would survive the encounter.” She shrugged, attempting to soften the blow of her honesty, “Death seemed a likely outcome, so I made my peace with it.”

_It didn’t work._

The room seemed to shift with his immediate flash of anger, though he’d averted his gaze away from her. He was angry at himself? Maybe she had driven him to madness. He sought her gaze once more, the look amassing there filled her with unease. The sorrow softening his eyes, the slight downturned curve of his lips, brows slightly raised in regretful apology, no, no _no_ not _this_ , not _**again**_. She fidgeted. It was the same look he’d given her when he shattered her heart, when he’d taken her arm. The buzzing tendrils of anxiety obscured all her other senses as fear took root. It was too much, _she couldn’t do it_. She had managed to waver on the precipice of full blown panic when his expression finally darkened. He spoke low and tinged with warning, **_“Vhenan-"_**

She bolted, wrapping the fade about her as she stepped in the vague direction of the garden she’d spotted earlier. Barely materializing when she was caught fast, held tight in lithe arms. He repeatedly dispelled her attempts to pull the fade around her. He tightened his hold, _he knew_. His arms dropped and she blindly stepped onward, appearing at the other end of the garden where the ground rushed up to meet her as she was slammed into from behind.

_He was Fen’Harel once more._

~~=~~

It was a move he should have anticipated. He'd done too much damage as Solas for her to endure his kinder demeanor this soon. Apologies she was not ready to accept, after all his apologies were often followed by monstrous betrayals. He dropped his grasp, gathering his mantle about him again. _Very well_ , he would fight the mistakes of years slowly, passionately. If she expected rough handling she would get it, _for now._

He tackled her harshly where she appeared, subduing her form, pressing her to the ground as she fought him. “You know I could never resist you when you ran, vhenan.” the low timbre of his voice coaxing her to stillness. He unleashed his desire into her; let it consume her as he dragged her to her knees underneath him. He bucked his hips against the curve of her ass, showing her just how intent he was on taking her, his erection already straining the confines of his clothing, a whine spilling from her lips as he ground his length against her slit, the intense heat emanating from between her thighs called to him.

He intended to take her regardless of whether she was ready for him or not, yet as he roughly stripped her leggings to her knees he found her need already soaking her. He grasped her wrists binding them with a spell behind her back as he freed himself with one hand, guiding the head of his cock to her slick entrance, teasing her folds. A small whimper falling from her throat was all the encouragement he needed, thrusting deeply into her, hilting himself completely in one fluid motion. The guttural groan that shook from her as she squirmed, fighting to accommodate him, her inner walls fluttering to relax around the abrupt intrusion, was the highest praise of her body. The searing heat of her, the scent of her need sorely tested his restraint. He yanked up on her wrists as he withdrew from her almost entirely, momentarily pulling her face up from the ground before slamming back into her, masking his wince with a low growl as her face drove into the grass again.

He snapped his hips into her slowly, rolling and plunging into her core, reveling in the tortured moans he drew from her. Working her slowly, he used her bound wrists as leverage to drive into her, denying her any other touch but the praise of his hips. He groaned in approval as he found the spot within her that made her keen entirely unhindered. He dragged his length against it over and over as she writhed beneath him. He felt her teetering on the edge of release as he stilled. He wanted to hear her beg, the sweet desperation of his name carried on her breath before he granted what she sought.

Incoherent pleadings for him to continue were not enough, he grinned as he complied though not in the way she desired. With his free hand he probed their joining. Slicking his fingers as he stretched her tight entrance, he slowly inserted one finger beneath his cock, plunging it deeper before inserting another digit as she tried to buck her hips. A delightfully disbelieving gasp was her response. He hooked his fingers downwards roughly subduing her movement, stretching her further. The flexing of her muscles around him set his length throbbing almost painfully. He wouldn't last much longer. Then she whimpered "Fen'Harel, _please!"_

All higher forms of thought fled him as he drove into her, the added sensation of his fingers quickly driving him to the edge. He pressed his thumb to her clit and she shook apart beneath him. Her grasping inner walls, the wild jerking of her hips, her desperate cry as she tried to muffle the noise into the grass was enough to undo him. He withdrew his hand as his other let her wrists fall, grasping her hips roughly as he drove into her deeper. A long satisfied moan rolling into the night air as he came, spilling within her as she milked his cock for all he had to give.

She was still shaking when he reluctantly released her, withdrawing from her heat. Setting both of their clothing to rights, he dispelled the bindings as he gathered her up. She did not desire to run now. The fear, the anxiety she exuded before, had long left her. Guilt threatened to bloom in his heart as sudden as a bruise, he quickly moved to quell it, stifling it with his lingering desire.

He strode back to his chambers comfortable in the enveloping silence. He was aware of her careful glances up at him from where she was captured against his chest, a stifled curiosity emanating from her. Climbing onto his bed, depositing her on the sheets, he only parted with her to gently divest them of their clothing. She didn't flinch away at his renewed touch, tender as it was, nor at the spell he cast to heal the cuts on her cheek. She gave her body, her voice, her ardor freely as he consumed her. He took her again and again until she was exhausted, melting into his arms, relaxed completely in his embrace. He stayed deep within her, whispering soft praise to her body, drinking in the scent of his well pleased lover.

She fell asleep first, and he marveled that she was able to do so. His unrestrained adoration for her consumed him, _she was real, she was his, she was safe in his arms._ The mantra he’d forced himself to repeat ages past in their quest to defeat Corypheus. It was startling how easy the words came to his lips, even after all they’d been through.

A soft murmur from her lips heralded his undoing. _"Mmmhr Solas..."_ He clutched her tighter, the pang in his chest almost unbearable. He had never expected to hear his name fall from her lips in such a loving manner again. His world shook apart despite his efforts to cling to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy do I have a plan now.
> 
> Can it be fluff if one person isn't conscious for it? Hmmm. Either way, ~~likely fluff coming up in chapter 5, definitely in chapter 6.~~ Yeah... so. Slight change of plans. Eventual fluff, but chapter 5 is going to hurt and not in a good way, chapter 6 things look up, any chapters after that will have fluff leading up to a happy ending with at least one more _lighthearted_ smut hurrah. You know, unless I change plans again. 
> 
> I'm trying to keep this out of Stockholm Syndrome territory, please do let me know if it comes off like that.  
> [thank you anon, you've helped immensely in making the eventual happy ending possible]
> 
> Next chapter desperately gratuitous smut.


	4. The Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should probably be on record that I am a terrible person.
> 
>  
> 
> This seems strangely fitting [Emperor's new clothes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qFF2v8VsaA) \- Panic! At the Disco.
> 
> [8/1 + 540 words – continued change of tone, reworded a few things, small elaborations.] [Original Chapter](https://marevasan-after-dark.tumblr.com/private/147679588729/tumblr_oaliwr6SLT1vxlysn)

Solas woke in his bed alone. The warmth of her pressed against him gone. His hands blindly sought her form until the familiar void ripped through his chest. He choked around a stricken sob as he ripped off the sheets, scouring the empty bed with his gaze. Fisting his hands in his hair to keep from falling apart, it had felt so _real_. He had felt... _HER_. No spirit had been able to convince him so thoroughly before. None should have been able to replicate the feelings their bond evoked in him, the steady pulse of her heart shaking the strings that bound her to him. He cried out in anguish as his heart beat alone, echoing its empty sentiments into the void, the gaping chasm that remained where her presence used to be. His disbelief did little to numb the harsh reality he had woken to once more.

_It hadn't been real._

She _**died**_ when the veil fell. Most quick-blooded elves couldn't adapt, and he'd left her alone. The memory soured in the pit of his stomach, she had begged him in a dream, months after he took the anchor and her arm with it. She tried to disband the Inquisition, yet they all turned their daggers on her at last, just as she had once feared. After all, she had been his Herald, his lover, and she had known who he was for a long time, a time too long for them to consider her anything other than traitor, _complicit_. The odds were stacked tall against her as she sought to save her world alone, and he’d turned away, gone against his vow to protect her. He had meant to die to bring the veil crashing down; yet he couldn't have anticipated that the blood price wouldn't be his, not truly.

Though the price he paid now was overwhelming. Every bitter inch of his being knew he deserved no less. He spent more and more time in dreams as the battered world moved forward without him. The remaining Elvhen thrived even as he languished. He had gotten everything he desired yet it left him feeling like he lost it all.

He had failed her and he was a _fool_.

The pale light streaming through the windows cast everything in muted grey tones. It was fitting he thought, dragging his leaden body out of bed, the world as dull and despairing as he felt. As if his anguish had finally convinced the world this was how it should look, with the veil gone he supposed it was a real possibility. Nothing was as immutable and unyielding as it had been before- yet even in the depths of his grief he still kept his will in check. It was all he had left to do for his people, to keep himself from unraveling all they had accomplished in his slumber. Which only left one path for his darkening intent- _inward_.

He tended to his body with the barest attention; death would be too merciful for him now. He endured as always, keeping himself alive only to suffer the consequences of his actions once more. The cold water soothing his dry throat shocked more of his thoughts into clarity. It only facilitated fresh waves of despair, anger. He’d dreamed of her, yes, but was it his dream? Had his heart conjured the depravity he’d leveled against her? **No** , the _spirit_ that impersonated her? He couldn’t slip now, it wasn’t her, it _couldn’t_ be her. Yet he’d hurt her all the same. She had deserved better than him. Deserved better than to be portrayed as a demon, how could he ever see himself the shining beacon? No, he was the encroaching darkness that had snuffed out her flame.

A council ruled in his stead. On occasion when he would finally wake he would check in to make sure they weren’t guiding the people astray, as if he was any authority on that matter. This time he would not. He couldn’t face them in his shaken state, he could not bear to admit he'd finally lost control of his own dreams. It was difficult enough facing them with his shattered intent unsettling the world around him despite his efforts to contain it. His guards, his agents did well enough to quell the rumors that he was a shattered shade of his former self; few ever saw him these days. Many believed that after his efforts he’d succumbed to Uthenera once more. It was close enough to the truth, though it was no peaceful slumber, no reward for his long years. It was a torment, his pain clouding and warping everything around him. It made this dream even more poignant, few spirits could stand his presence these days. Whatever it was that masqueraded as her could only bring him ruin. He welcomed it. Perhaps then his fate would leave his hands at last.

Pacing wouldn’t clear his mind, neither would meditation. He would ruminate on the dream until he doubted everything once more, the right path obscured by his uncertainty and self-loathing. The dream was the clearest path, an obsession to follow through to whatever end it entailed. He cursed himself, he didn’t deserve even the pale imitation of that which he desired more than anything, yet the compulsion to chase it, to throw himself at the spirit’s mercy or lack thereof was all he had. The warring thoughts within him raged for what felt like years, yet the light of dawn had barely tinged the world in offensively lighthearted colors once more when he finally returned to his bed. He sought the pull of the fade even as his head sank onto his pillows. He desperately tried to hold onto himself, his intent as sleep claimed him. It wouldn’t do to lose himself in the fantasy once more. His last thought hoping he could find the dream and guide it down a gentler path if not for him, than for the spirit his pain ensnared.

* * *

Fen’Harel woke in his bed, curled around the lithe frame of his lover. The warmth that emanated from her form wound through his core, shaking the vague lingering unease of his dreams from his mind. Her heart beat in near unison with his. He could feel her pulse fluttering the strings of their bond, his answering with a slight tug of its own. The minute push and pull of their lifeblood calling the other was often too small to discern over the grander pull of their sentiments, their intents, he reveled in the quiet moment as he buried his face against her neck. Though he quickly grew aware their bond wasn’t the only thing that fluttered, her steady pulse rapidly becoming apparent where he lay still linked within her. Heat pooling low in his belly as his cock quickly responded, growing more rigid with each beat. He froze, though he longed to move within her, desired to press her form closer to his chest. His breath heavy and uneven as he fought against the urge to take her, the moment had been too perfect to break even for that.

Despite his efforts to cling to the innocence of her sleep swathed body, she stirred.

He braced himself for retribution, conjured daggers, fists or fears. Instead a wanton moan tumbled from her lips as she rocked back against him, impaling herself further on his cock. It was a plea he couldn’t deny. His arms wound tighter around her of their own accord. A shameless groan rumbling from his chest as he thrust into her deeper, a small gasp her reply. He stilled, probing their bond, searching for any trepidation. He found a profound depth of want and it was all he needed. And oh the needs he had, to feel her, to give himself to her, to join with her spirit in chasing the high only they could give one another. He dragged himself from her soaking heat, nearly withdrawing fully before snapping his hips against her. His ponderous pace consuming her fully, each purposeful thrust urging delightful sounds from her as she gripped his arms. Then she moved to meet him and all his carefully tended restraint fled. He thrust insistently into her tightening core as his hand caressed lower down the taut muscles of her stomach, stroking down to the bundle of nerves, gently teasing and rolling the nub beneath his deft fingers. The glorious sounds she made escalated in her pleasure. Her hips stuttered as she tried to match his punishing pace. A growl issuing from deep within him as he bit into the back of her neck, she was already so close.

He brought her over the edge, a broken cry stuttered from her lips as she came undone. His thrusts becoming more urgent less rhythmic as he felt her tight muscles squeeze around his length, seeking to draw him in deeper. A moan of pure ecstasy scarcely muffled into her skin between his teeth as he tipped over the edge, throbbing within her as the wave of his release flowed through him. He clutched her tight against his shuddering form as he spilled his favor deep within her, his hips helplessly rocking out his orgasm. They groaned in unison as their bond reverberated with the aftermath of their release.

~~=~~

His teeth released her, a small kiss pressed to her skin in muted apology. Yet no healing spell followed, and no prickle drew her worries. It seemed he had not drawn blood this time. It was an unusually gentle act from him, further surprising her as he contented himself with nuzzling her neck once more. To be woken as such was undeniably thrilling, it had been so long. Yet, it was not the repeat of long sought release that gave way to her tension drained form. The mutinous comfort she felt at his presence, to be held in loving rebellion, his harsh efforts belied by the unexpected care... it was puzzling. If pressed she would deny it fervently, that she had longed, dreamed of waking next to him once more- here where she hurt, here where she felt whole. Held tight in his capture, his hand still possessively covering her sex, she felt infuriatingly safe. He had not withdrawn from her, nor did his length soften. A twitch pulling deep within her coaxed a heavy breath from her in a rush. He did not speak, so neither did she, returning to her thoughts despite the heated interruption cultivating a deeper blush with startling speed. She had not slept alone in exile, though to be truthful sleep rarely held her interest. Succumbing to the Fade was usually uncomfortable, even when he refrained from interfering in her dreams- the caress of his gaze never left her. It only woke her more frustrated than before, and though her bedmates tried to tame her- they never succeeded.

She could feel his intent strengthening around her, his desire to take her again just as apparent in his short sharp breaths fanning over her neck. He was _insatiable_ , his desire mounting more urgently as he shifted slightly within her. His hand pressed more firmly against her clit. The aching heat rose with startling ease in her again, _apparently so was she_. She whimpered as he rolled them, her onto her stomach, him on top of her. He made no move to lessen his weight settled over her back, pressing her into his bed. Her arms pinned beneath her as she clutched his, holding on tight as if it could ground her. He pressed another kiss to the back of her neck and she could feel his silent question break the tempestuous surface of his roiling intent. She nodded, a small movement subdued by his weight, an affirmation that she wasn't in pain, that she wanted _this_.

_Wanted him._

The stillness shattered as he set loose his restraint, his wealth of need suddenly unleashed flooded the strings that tied her to him, coloring her own want with reckless fervor. She cried out as he rutted into her, the effort displacing his spend, further slicking their heated joining. The frantic rhythm of his hips in stark contrast to the slow circles he rubbed into her over sensitive clit. He groaned with abandon as she was held fast, unable to move her hips to meet his. His searing kiss at the base of her neck cooled as his heavy breath fanned over it. The wildly instinctive thrusting of his hips drove ever increasingly desperate moans from her. The low groan that she felt as much as heard as it rumbled from his throat paired with the sudden swell of his length as he thrust deep within her was enough to shatter her. She screamed his name as she bucked beneath him. Her frantic release granted him his own as he hilted home, spilling within her again. His moan carried the same tone of desperation as hers as the heat of his spend flooded her depths. He was shaking so hard from his efforts he was shaking her, though as she came down from the heights he had driven her to she realized she was actually trembling as well.

He weakly eased himself off of her, finally withdrawing his softening length from her, collapsing beside her as she fought for control of her limbs. She mustered the strength to turn her face towards him. He was an unfairly, utterly gorgeous mess. Arm thrown over his face, hair disarrayed in swirling patterns sticking to his skin, panting open-mouthed, draped in the sheen of their efforts. She was transfixed, drinking in the magnificence of his dishevelment, her recently freed arm reaching for him before she could stop it. Her ghostly fingertips tentatively resting over his heart as he stilled, slowly the rest of her willed hand followed suit. Her palm pressed to his chest as she counted the frantic beats contained within. He watched her intently from under his arm. The draw of his gaze was an inescapable pull as she soon found her stare fixed on his.

_Something was wrong._

It wasn't that the caress of her weaponized arm no longer seemed to harm him, nor that he'd let her so close to his vitality- _knowing full well she could have just taken his life_. There was something of a darkness lingering around the edges. A flickering pitfall in her chest, a worrying void she'd not felt in an age- Not since he died for her in Redcliffe all those years ago. Swallowing her fear, she steadied herself, it would not do to make it worse. It was clear he was bothered by something, wallowing in his head again. She needed to say something, needed to pull him back. Nothing good ever came from his ruminating. Words passed by her, pale imitations of reassurance, sentiments she wasn't sure she could sell. She sighed, settling for the only truth she had.

"I have missed you. Missed this, _Fen'Harel_."

It was not the name she was thinking of, yet it was fitting- and the safer of the two to say. This man was not the other, but then she wasn't what she used to be either. It had the desired effect, he was wholly with her once more as the arm over his face swept down her back, pulling her close as his other hand gently covered hers resting over his heart. He didn't seem to notice that he had not flinched away from her raw will. Perhaps she wasn’t as sharp as she once was... _Or perhaps he'd grown used to the stab._

It startled a confession of his own to come tumbling from his lips. "I had unsettling dreams. Though I do not recall what they were, which in itself is unusual enough to garner my concern. However, it was the profound sense of despair, the depth of which I have not felt in ages, that troubles me.” The depths of his gaze mirrored his words, exuding a well of agony she had not seen grace his features in many long years, it sent a pang trembling through her. “Not since I lost you, _vhenan'ara_ , when you vanished in Redcliffe. When the magister tried to take you from me.” He shuddered even as he grasped her tighter, his confirmation chilling her to the bone despite the warmth of him. “It felt like the return of that gaping void." He paused as his gaze refocused on her, shaking the ghost of memory.

“I could not bear losing you again, Revas.”

The desperation in his voice softened her, in the shadow of their shared fear... All they had was each other. Could he truly still care... deeply, underneath his facade of pride? His mask of control? Her pride tore at the confines of her mind, screaming to deny him, to stab at him as he had once stabbed at her… _That his pretty words could not be trusted._ But… to finally be wanted, _desired_. To finally be at his side, to be let in. _It was a desire too deep to deny._ She felt she should say something of value in return, something reassuring, yet her mouth leapt to the task with a mild biting reply before her mind could catch up.

“Then _don't_ lose me, I am quite a rather large thing to be misplaced so often.”

She broke his gaze as she settled her head on his shoulder, slightly exasperated at her own mouth, lazily reading his emotions. A genuine yet surprising chuckle burst forth from him. The mirth rolling from his chest wasn't the dark mockery from before; it was a hint of Solas.

A hint that didn't hurt.

A slight smile curved her lips for the first time in years. Perhaps they weren't so irreparably broken, perhaps she could still salvage this, salvage him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing was the result of one caffeine-fueled-shower-thought what if.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Happy ending I swear.
> 
> PS: my personal canon is that the time travel transition in Redcliffe wasn't smooth, that there were a few moments when their bond was broken. Solas assumed her dead in the seconds he couldn't feel her. It's a feeling he's desperately avoided a repeat of since.


	5. The Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say fluff? Must have been a translation error, clearly I meant pain. This chapter will either make or break it for you guys. I had not intended to go here, yet here is where I must go for it to get better.
> 
> Hold onto your vhenans, this might hurt for a bit.
> 
> [8/1 + 150ish words. Negligible changes, continuity, whatnot.]
> 
>  
> 
> [The Cave.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgDNCmGr-Q4)

He had given her the freedom to walk the halls of his palace. Well, when she wasn’t bound to his bed that is. It seemed in his own eccentric way he intended to hold up her declaration. He couldn't lose her if he kept her tied up at his pleasure. As long as she didn’t stray outside the walls she wouldn’t draw his ire, a guard of his often set on her to ensure her compliance. His guards didn’t speak to her; neither did anyone else she saw for that matter. It was vaguely like not existing, save for the fact their eyes tracked her movements. Perhaps they despised her- after all she seemed to bring out the worst in him.

She watched them often, something felt off, as though trying to focus but being unable to do so. She’d forget strange things at times, like she had when she’d first awoken in his bed. How could she forget what hunger was? It was possible that she could attribute it to the state of disorientation she had been in… yet there had also been a truly terrifying moment when she realized she hadn’t been breathing. For how long, she didn’t know. It wasn’t something she could look directly at, content to pretend it didn’t happen. She was still alive after all, perhaps she’d imagined it? There was something vaguely disconcerting about this place. Yet all she could do was watch things unfold, despite the fact that sometimes the world grew hazy, as if she was watching events develop around her at a great distance.

She didn’t know what she was doing here. What was her purpose? Not that she’d had one of those for a long time, other than surviving and trying to remain free… though truthfully her only purpose lately had been self-castigation for her failures. Persisting only to paint the wilds with her pain. Was this just the next step in her perceived punishment? Sometimes it felt like it, other times though, it felt dangerously close to a great many things she’d long since forsaken. If she was honest with herself, she had expected walking through his empire would result in her death one way or another, if not by the hands of his people, than his own. Though… she supposed it still might.

He still treated her roughly, yet at times there was a tenderness in his gaze that belied his rough handling of her. The way he said _vhenan_ spoke volumes, it didn’t seem possible for him to say the word in any other tone than lovingly, even when it was tinged in warning. It brought up memories she didn’t want to dwell on, those versions of themselves died years ago, before he tore down the veil. Even the baser conveyances in their bond seemed, softer around the edges. It confused her to no end. It should have been the dawn of a halcyon age, to finally have some semblance of a relationship with her lover once more. Yet- she felt more and more like she was losing pieces of herself with every step towards him she took. And though he seldom compelled her to do what he wished these days, she found she lacked the will to deny him all the same. He called and she answered, he asked and she gave, he made rules and she obeyed.

No, it felt more like she’d fallen into a pit of undulating madness. A strange give and take perpetuated by a lover who at once could be in the midst of a feral mode, only to switch into the sagacious man who’d bonded her long ago.

She watched him with an intent she could seldom spare for anything else. Hoping against all odds she could somehow unravel the mystery he presented, somehow be able to fix what they both had become.

~~=~~

Fen’Harel was pleased that his lover no longer flinched away from his gaze or stifled her voice. Her mouth knew to automatically open for him as he kissed her, yet the fire in her was dimming. It called forth an elusive unease in his mind, yet he could not grasp why. Her delicate fingers tangled in his hair, the sweet melody of her moans as he claimed her over and over drew his attention far more than minor annoyances.

He would often leave her tied to his bed and blindfolded for hours. Caressing her with his magic until she was brought to the brink, abruptly dispelling his cast touch, leaving her whimpering and moaning his name. It was a symphony from her lips. The lyrical quality of her passion, her arousal, begging him for release was sweeter to him than any song. He enjoyed feeling everything she felt as he went about his duties. His face a careful mask as he ruled his kingdom, however, he thought darkly, his true kingdom lay writhing in his sheets. He knew the map of her veins, the boundaries of her thighs, the very feel of her soft skin better than his lands, better than its borders, better than its people.

He'd been working secretly to change their opinion of her, though it would take time. He still intended to raise her up, but they'd have to accept her to do it.

~~=~~

He was wholly Solas for them. The light breathy laughter of his as he moved among them, the careful consideration he gave each issue brought before him. She tried to control the hurt, the longing she felt as she watched shrouded from behind a fluted pillar. He’d asked her to join him as he sat court. It was an unusual request, though she accepted all the same. Dressed in the finery he had given her, groomed to some acceptable Elvhen standard, instructed not to glower at his people. _Their_ people, he said, though they weren’t hers. No matter his insistence, she knew her people had died with the fall of the veil. That was a wound that would take a very long time to heal, if ever it did. She was the past they tried to forget. As if the years that existed while the veil held back the sky had never happened. Even those who'd been born in her quick world left all their traditions behind. How quick they were still, _to forget_ , now that they had all they strived for.

She felt like poison lurking in their water, perhaps their appointment of her as their new Forgotten One was more fitting than she realized. What did she touch that she did not ruin? She was certain her darkened sentiments were nearly tangible, the shadows lengthening around her despite her attempt to lock it down. She crept from the hall, sure everyone would breathe a sigh of relief at her absence.

Rough hands subdued her that night, his displeasure that she had left while he still held court. A whisper in her ear as he took her from behind, always from behind, “You will not leave court again before me, vhenan. I see your manners are still lacking.” She acquiesced to his touch, allowing him to take his pleasure as well as hers. “As you wish, Fen’Harel.” A rumble of approval rolling from deep in his throat as he held her tight, curled at her back.

He would often stay inside her long after taking her, as if the act could somehow make up for the long years of his absence. They often fell asleep in such a manner, where he would find her and take her in dreams as well. A vague panic once took her as she wondered if his bizarre closeness had ulterior motives, he had mentioned marking her further, surely he didn't mean with his seed? It had set her hyperventilating before he murmured “Shhh _ma'vhenan_. Do not worry I am here.” It had inexplicably calmed her as well as any command that carried on his voice, and after all he had never mentioned wanting children. Even now his life was too hectic, and hers too broken. Even with all his empire freely procreating once more she hoped there wasn't a clamor for him to add to it. She resolved to dare ask him what he had meant as she drifted off.

~~=~~

Reading was difficult to focus on, sometimes it would be shifting words scrawling across a page, at others it would appear as roving images that played out like memories, their content always too vague to determine. She learned little from the effort, yet it occupied her vague concept of time nonetheless. It was a rare respite, neither tied to his bed, nor expected to accompany him in the great hall. She used the time idly trying to determine the best way to ask his intent.

A long fingered hand slid around the front of her neck, gently titling her head back, breaking her gaze from her futile efforts to parse the book in her grasp. He arched over her, his lips brushing hers as he reclaimed her mouth as if the mere hours spent apart had been a lifetime. The curiosity in his gaze as he pulled back, staring at her upside down, compelled her to spill her thoughts heedlessly.

“You...” She cleared her throat nervously and started again. “You mentioned marking me further. May I ask what you meant by that?” He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, “Perhaps I can show you.” He drew her to stand as she left her book forgotten. He escorted her to a room she'd never been in, a private study. It contained an elaborate mural on the wall that nearly stopped her heart.

It was her. A large swath of the wall was covered in her bare form, her body adorned in delicate red markings. They wound around her limbs beautifully, in the same style as her vallaslin. They drew attention to her features without marring them. He'd... actually taken her fanciful request once upon a happier time seriously, to mark every inch of her, to finish his work. She wasn't aware that he was watching her carefully, parsing her emotions with precision. She allowed a relieved sigh to escape her. This she could handle. Even, welcome?

A quiet intake of breath turned her to him, the mural nearly forgotten already. He was looking at her in an entirely different manner. A thinly veiled desire on his features, as his eyes roamed her form. “I would not have presumed to mark you in that way _vhenan_. Such things are ruled by intent now. It would not take hold without both our desires aligning on the matter.” Her eyes grew wide at the admission, he had guessed at what she had feared. He chuckled darkly, “I can see how my recent proclivities would lead you to that concern.”

“Then you...?”

He tilted his head as if the new angle would allow him to see her in a different light. “Would I desire such a thing?” His gaze darkened considerably as his eyes roamed her form freely. The unabashed yearning he conveyed made her feel weak. “If that is not answer enough, yes. I would desire claiming you in such a way.”

Her breath hitched. The admission nearly sending her into flight before his hand grasped her chin, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze. “One thing at a time _vhenan_ , if you wish me to complete my markings, we will start tomorrow.”

~~=~~

“Crimson is one of the purest forms of vallaslin.” His words echoed back to what her clan had once told her, before exiling her. That red was one of the most ancient of blood writings, aside from black, that was known to the people as it drew not only on the red pigment, but the blood of the supplicant for the starkness of the tint. Other shades and colors had supposedly come later and required different methods and spells to keep the colors unchanged by the blood shed in the act. Blood writing was nearly a form of blood magic, a ritual that danced right up to that line without crossing it, so great care had to be taken for the other shades. An inexperienced practitioner could easily end up with a red lined supplicant against their intent. The relatively primitive method of application saw that red had largely fallen out of favor except as in punishment.

“Hold still.” She obeyed despite the tickle of his brush trailing over her skin. He would have to paint the markings in a temporary ink first, as guidelines before taking up the small chisel. She swallowed roughly at the memory. This would be excruciating.

"Are you ready _vhenan_?" She nodded, trying to center herself in a rush of breath. He took up the small chisel and hammer, and it was the last time she was able to register the care with which his dipped the chisel into the ink. He kissed her briefly, reassuringly, before setting to work tapping the instrument into the planned lines at her neck. She bit her lip and drew blood. It was every bit as painful as she remembered. Through the haze of pain she knew every hit was squarely on mark, no unnecessary cuts. The openness and careful concentration he carried was purely Solas while he painted her body. She focused on him to keep the pain at bay.

He ran his hands over the finished lines, casting small spells to seal her blood, the ink into her skin, he ritualistically washed her, inspecting the lines for missing spots before casting waves of healing over the wounds. Trailing hands of ice to sooth the lingering discomfort, she finally caught her breath as the chill in his hands abated. She sat up to inspect the lines that now extended from her neck down her right arm and chest. A small smile of hers met his once she looked up. “They’re beautiful.” He kissed between her brows as he gathered her up from the table to deposit her on the bed. “You are beautiful, _vhenan_. They are merely an ode to your form.” Though he lay with her, he did not take her for once. Content to hold her close, allowing her to recover before they began again after his duties concluded the next day.

It took several days for him to mark the majority of her body, or at least she thought it could have been days. Time was becoming an increasingly confusing concept to her lately. Surely it must pass, despite their resistance to its effects. The constant wheeling of light and dark didn’t register except in the moods of her lover. Though, even he became difficult to understand at times, as if she was trying to hear him while submerged underwater, her normally lilting voice stripped to an oddly flat tone as it struggled to break through the waves that engulfed her consciousness. She found it didn’t bother her, she was almost always in a state of sustained content, a peaceful tranquility. This was where she belonged, he took good care of her. There was no need to worry him, everything would be fine as long as he was happy.

~~=~~

The more he tried to hold on the more she seemed to slip away. Yet he felt compelled to finish the marks, he could focus on fixing what ailed her once they were whole. After all she seemed content, unperturbed. They were almost complete, his greatest work. He'd tattooed her entire body, only her willed hand remained.

She kneeled before him as he settled in behind her, spreading her knees further apart. He bent over her whispering in her ear. _“Ar las ne ma’enaste emma lath, var lath suledin bellanaris.”_

He guided himself to her already slick entrance. It set his blood aflame that she so readily reacted to his presence in such a way. He thrust fully inside her stilling once hilted. A delightfully low moan rose on her voice as he reveled in the tight heat of her, gathering her up against his chest. He bade her to hold her arms palm up as he wound his arms over hers, his palms locked to hers, his fingers threading hers. He nudged her forward again slightly, using their locked hands as an anchor for him to thrust into her.

He began a slow rhythm, rocking into her core focusing on the joining of their forms. He reached for her magic with his. They would need to be close, as close as they could get for him to write his will upon hers. He began forcing his magic into her in time to his thrusts, he would have her open to him entirely. Her cries became increasingly urgent as his thrusts lost their rhythm, his fervent need taking over. Her hips snapped with her release, drawing him in deeper as he howled his pleasure, his body curled tightly around hers. He poured his seed into her grasping heat even as he poured all his focus into her, etching his will over hers. Her intangible hand glowed with the throes of her passion and soon with his markings. The intricate network of lines flashed red with their completion. Her hand dimmed in the wake of her release, his blood writing remained. The circuit completed. She was his. Body and soul. Her magic branded by his. His seed mingling with the heat of her release. She would never be without him now, and he without her. His heart was bared to her in its entirety.

Soft words spilled from her lips. Light streaming from between leaves, a breath of wind, where once harsh gales tore and ripped. “Vhenan.” The world dimmed to grey. There was no love, no adoration, no heat… No emotion at all in her statement. It was an abomination of the word.

_It tore him apart._

* * *

Solas awoke ashamed and already in the midst of his grief. The realization already rooted in his heart- he’d bound the spirit to him, twisted it fully from its nature. He had succumbed to the fantasy once more and essentially killed an innocent spirit in his wantonness. Turned Freedom to Servitude, it was the very thing he’d always strived against. The very thing he’d killed those mages for when they twisted Wisdom into a demon of Pride. How _**could** he?!_ How could he live with himself!? He let his grief pour out of him unhindered. Cursing himself, his mind, his lack of control, how could he have let this happen? Perpetuated such violence? Despite spiraling further into the throes of his self-criminations he slowly became aware of another presence in his room. His grief came to an abrupt halt as terror picked up the slack. He opened his eyes.

_There had been no familiar void in his chest to greet his waking._

It had been filled. He could still feel her- the _spirit_ that masqueraded as her. It shouldn’t be possible, yet he was certain he wasn’t dreaming any longer. The reason why was sprawled out on top of him, a spirit being pulled into waking. Barely tangible in the soft yellow glow of it, yet it’s rapidly establishing form was rife with angry red markings. His markings. The markings he’d foolishly bound her with. What did he touch that he did not ruin?

The spirit stirred, slowly unfurling to sit astride his hips. It said nothing, clearly waiting for his command. Her features slowly manifested, becoming slightly more lucid on her shifting form. There was no question the spirit was still mimicking his lover. He stared in disbelief.

There was only one thing he could do, it would either fix this… or make it far worse. If he had any luck left, perhaps in its twisted state it would finally end him.

He carefully placed his hands on her thighs, flinching slightly as the spirit placed her own spectral hands over his. He closed his eyes and focused, feeling for the bond, the markings. In his concentration he didn’t notice the door to his room open, or his agents that gathered silently. First he forsook their bond, dissolving the magics, the intent that held her to him. A new wave of grief hit him as he found it startlingly easy to convince his heart to release her. Then again, what he’d done was appalling; he’d rather face the void again for the rest of his life than another second spent with her bound against her will. In the wake of the release, he felt… _nothing_. Not the void, just… himself? He would have stopped to ponder that, but he was not done. The true binding lay in the new marks that covered her form. He focused all his will, erasing the intent that put them there as he cast the spell to remove the vallaslin. He opened his eyes to watch the trail of them vanish across her form. _“Ar lasa mala Revas. Ir… Ir abelas, glandival ne venatisha.”_

The effect was almost immediate when the last of the red scars left the growing sunrise of her form. The half aware glaze across her features dissipating as she became cognizant of her surroundings. He held his breath. "Solas?" He closed his eyes, a slight nod, before the shock of his name on her lips set in. When he gazed up at her, there was a slow fury forming on her features. He tried to sit up, stopped by a barely tangible palm pressed surprisingly forcefully to his chest.

She was fully scowling down at him now. The reality of what he had done to her must finally be settling in. Then all at once he realized his mistake. Something he hadn't known was possible.

It wasn’t just a spirit, it was truly _her_.

 

She flew up off of where she was perched on his lap, dashing to the edge of the room in an instant.

"What in the _VOID_ did you do to me Solas?!

He scrambled off his bed as he retreated to the opposite side of the room, confusion writ prominently across his face. Her fury redoubled as she finally realized the full extent of what he'd done to her, how he’d bound her. She blindly grabbed at anything not tied down, hurling it in his direction, unaware of his agents that stood in shock just outside his room.

 **“HOW. COULD. YOU?!”** Each word punctuated by a different object thrown.

He stared at her in open disbelief, taking several steps toward her as he dodged her projectiles.

“ _Revas_? Is that… really you?”

 _“YES!_ Who the **hell** else would I be?!

Solas stopped dodging objects as he sank to his knees before her. A well thrown book hit him square on the nose. She could hear the crack of little bones breaking. He barely flinched though she did, halting her assault as he stared fixedly at the ground, blood streaming down his face. He made no move to heal the break, to stem the flow. His tears joined the steady stream. He was strangely _silent_ , and then she finally realized precisely how he’d set her free, _he’d forsaken their bond_. It was objectively strange to not be able to feel him, to not be bonded. Yet, it put her in an odd state of peace, their grief was separate now. She couldn’t be hurt by his and he couldn’t be hurt by hers. He couldn’t monitor her emotions… in fact she wasn’t sure she even had the same sort of sentiments elves now had. Their bond had made her more, without it... She wasn’t technically alive by his standards...

She finally looked down at herself at the thought. Her gaze met not with a solidly Elven form, but the intangible form of a spirit.

“I… What the hell happened?! Wait this is… but I, did I die? No… no, no, I _definitely_ died. I _died_ … the **veil FELL!** It- it burned me. Solas? _How am I not dead!?”_

Her gaze darted between her intangible body and his resolutely downcast face, now twisted into a profound anguish. The soft yellow glow of her form was so much like the color her eyes had been. She had died, and now she was… a _spirit?_ A spirit of Freedom in truth as well as name? Had her spirit grown from the ashes of her failure? He was still silent, refusing to look at her. The entire thing was disconcerting. No heart beat beneath her form, no breath escaped her despite her attempts to mimic the movements. She couldn’t feel much at all. It would have driven her to tears if she was currently capable of such a thing. As it was her sorrow was well conveyed in the breaking of her voice.

“Are you going to say anything? _Anything at all?”_

“I… don’t... I do not know where to start.”

“How about an apology? Some sort of regret? Remorse? Or am I _still_ less than a person to _you_?” That visibly wounded him, yet she didn’t feel it.

His words tumbled out of him in a rush as he finally met her gaze. He told her everything, his motives, his reasoning. That the dreaming was what he wished to save, the Fade endangered by the veil. Sealing up the void-driven blight unwittingly unleashed upon waking- an afterthought. He apologized for compelling her, trying to take her markings, taking her arm, leaving her to die alone at the end of all things. He apologized for the depravity of his dreams in which he’d ensnared her. His brutal efforts, the way he’d bound her. It was quite a long list.

“I did not think you were real. I thought it was just a dream and that you were lost to me forever. It is no excuse, only my selfish reasoning. Even had you been simply another spirit, it would still be unforgivable to do what I did. I-” He ran his hands down his face, wincing slightly when they brushed the swollen bump forming on his nose, though he did not heal it, looking back to her as he continued. “I woke once, and realized what I had done. I tried to stop myself, to return to the dream to fix it. Yet I hadn’t realized I was too broken for my dreams to be anything but thinly veiled nightmares. My own mind punishing me for your loss, punishing you… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

The long winded confession eased her grief, her burdens more than she would have thought- to finally have the entirety of the truth, as unpleasant as it was. His path had not been easy, and for the first time she pitied him, _truly_. The man she had fallen for had already been broken, though that man had a goal to strive for, this man had nothing but the weight of his failures. It was the mantle his dream had laid on her. She knew rather intimately how he felt, despite no longer feeling him as intimately as she had. By the time he had finished, his gaze drawn to the floor once more, the insurmountable trappings of his grief seemed to threaten his sanity. His body trembling, shivering as he reflexively wound his hands through his hair, threatening to pull it out at the root. _How far he had fallen_ … the darkness spilled from him at last, warping the floor where it fell, spreading rapidly outwards with his grief. The soft glow of her form was all that was left to keep it at bay. His people deserved better than a mad wolf to be left to his own devices. She reached out to touch his face, tentatively. The sudden contact shocked him out of his thoughts. He closed his eyes as he leaned into the caress. “I forgive you Solas, but I cannot forgive Fen’Harel, not now.” His grief redoubled in the pained expression he wore, yet he did nothing to sway her, nothing to refute her. It upset her that he so readily accepted whatever would come.

Everything she thought she knew had been a dream, his dream and he had freed her from it after a fashion, so she would free him. She let her intent build, focusing on all they had together, all they had been through over the years. Gently erasing the pain, his transgressions, her hurtful words. She reduced their relationship to a passing fancy, mutual comfort in a time of war, a small pure love that didn’t hurt. Leaving only the stolen moments, no betrayals.

_“Forget.”_

And he did.

She left before the fog cleared. Sending a withering look to his agents, “If you care for him at all, you will not tell him or anyone else what just transpired.” She strode from the palace, just another spirit, to lose herself in his empire. She had a lot to learn, the things she assumed from his dreams clearly did not reflect the reality she now found herself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Ar las ne ma’enaste emma lath, var lath suledin bellanaris.]**  
>  I grant you my favor my love, our love will endure (for) eternity.
> 
>  **[Ar lasa mala Revas. Ir… Ir abelas, glandival ne venatisha.]**  
>  I give you your freedom. I am sorry, (I) hope you go in peace.
> 
> The fool. First step on a new journey.  
> It gets better from here.  
> Next chapter up soon.
> 
> While it's not apparent in this fic- in this series canon her decision to make Solas forget is even more poignant than this suggests, considering one of her greatest fears is to be forgotten by those she loves. Forgetting is a sore spot for her, having been made to forget much in her interactions with a spirit that had attached itself to her (to guide her) when she was young. Oh... I made myself sad.
> 
>  
> 
>    
> "But I will hold on hope  
> And I won't let you choke  
> On the noose around your neck."


	6. The Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-t-t-time skip!! Time heals a lot of things right? right??  
> i.e. it’s a good thing I don’t drive stick, when I shift gears I shift gears hard. 
> 
> Sometimes when I say next chapter up soon, I actually mean it. Though truthfully, I wrote this chapter before I finished the last. I needed something to look forward to amid all that hurt.
> 
> PS: no smut in this chapter. Kinda fluffy. Ish. Swoonish? No sweeping yet, next chapter.
> 
> [Yellow- haha get it?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKNxeF4KMsY) Cause she's all yellow. _AhemRight._
> 
> [8/16 + 240ish words. Tacked on a state of things. Sentence structure changes, grammar etc. reworded repeats, small elaborations. Continuity.] [Original chapter here.](https://marevasan-after-dark.tumblr.com/private/147680398539/tumblr_oaljoq8gBv1vxlysn)

Disorienting.

That was the best word for it she was certain. As intangible as she was the physical world couldn't hold her, often finding herself shifting freely between what had become of waking and dreaming. The lines had blurred and it was easy for her to forget which one she was in. It took many years to understand the difference, and she hardly recognized either. Waking was much like what the dream, _his_ dream had portrayed- Malleable, forgiving, it's scars long since faded. The Fade though, it had been... _healed_. Until she laid eyes on it, she hadn't even known it had been sick, but there was no denying that now. No longer was it incoherent, a shattered fragment of waking, jagged edges of floating rock... it was a song. Beautiful from beginning to beginning anew, the space between realms, domains was soft, vibrant and full of memory. It was one memory in particular that kept drawing her again and again. So often that she found herself lingering there for years at a time, watching the world unfold around her. She didn't know when precisely it had become _her_ domain, the home of her heart, but it brought her peace. And though the concept of time had become more elusive than ever, one thing was inescapable.

Her world had been dead for centuries before her reawakening.

The battles of her lifetime were mere footnotes to the battles that had followed. The falling of the veil had not only been a bitter end for most peoples but also a bitter beginning for many. The wolf had been busy, quelling the darkness that had set loose upon the dreams, upon waking. Sealed away, destroyed to be healed by rebirth, pieces of older powers stitched back together. He had accomplished much despite the destruction. The dragons dreamed in peace once more, and the mountains that remained had receded deep below in tranquility, occasionally shaking the wilds that remained untouched above them.

There was an unprecedented peace in all things both dark and light, there was balance in the flow of things. That the dark was allowed to exist had surprised her. A few of the forgotten remained, the tears in the void healed. They sang a song of their own, harsher and darker than most, but still harmonious in the great chorus of the world.

She hoped it would last, hoped that the corruption would not return, hoped that when the greater powers were reborn with coherence that they carried none of their old malice. Only time would tell, as esoteric as it now was.

And time she had, to meticulously examine what he'd put her through. Time had helped heal her many hurts as she meditated long on the numerous trials of her life. She sought out spirits of Wisdom and Purpose, Hope and Prosperity. They had helped her much in her quest to better understand her nature, and the nature of the world she found herself in. They also had valuable insight on coming to terms with what she had been through. Several questions remained though, questions only _he_ could answer. The loudest being, if he hadn't pulled her spirit into that dream... Where would she be? Would she have ever woken up? Had his lingering bond given her memories back? The most unsettling was perhaps the fear that she wasn't truly the woman she thought she was, what if she was merely a spirit with Revas' memories? She wondered if even _he_ knew. Yet... It softened her grief. She might not exist in her current form if not for him. It was a poor stab at forgiveness, acceptance, but she felt guilty for making him forget. Her efforts likely made any hope of an answer lost to her forever. She tried not to let it bother her.

It was, after all, for the best. She hoped he would be alright. So she told Wisdom, she told Compassion, and she told Hope what she'd done. That he may need their guidance more than ever. To make him forget so much, if she overlooked even a small detail- it ran the risk of his grief returning one day. Should it, he would need help. Though, those spirits were known to the wolf as well. As time went on the frequency he sought their knowledge, their guidance increased. She drifted among the people once more, taking great care not to cross his path.

She wandered for nearly a century, going where she was needed most, both inside and beyond the sprawling borders of the empire. No longer forgotten, she was now well known as the spirit of freedom, Elga’revas. It had been many an age since one had last walked among the people. Welcomed by many, lauded and cherished by all- she slowly came to love the people as they grew up but never older around her. Much to her initial shock and dismay, she was often sought out by many of the people. They asked for council, knowledge, advice… especially in matters of the heart. How to properly win someone’s love without forcing it on them, when to let their children set out on their own paths, how to start their lives over anew. She was hardly the best spirit to ask, yet she couldn’t tell them that. She could only tell them precisely what _not_ to do. Hoping that it would be enough to guide them.

Yet as the years rolled by nearly unnoticed by her, the whispers started. “Will she manifest a body? She should be one of the people. What do you think she would do if she met the wolf?” The whispers slowly became outright questions. It was not unusual for a spirit to never create an earthly form, yet the trend was largely in favor of it especially in the aspect of rebuilding the Elvhen population. She was one of the oldest in the waking world which remained strictly intangible. If the questions were any indication she’d likely have several suitors should she ever manifest physically.

Truthfully she had considered it many times. She missed her old form often, the things it was capable of, the relative safety in not being susceptible twisting against her nature due to malicious influence. At first she kept the curiosity at bay by reasoning she could remain impartial as a spirit, keep her distance from everyone. Yet they endeared themselves to her anyways, and she became fond of them. Though now, she was most concerned if she took a body it would be her old one. That she would look the same, and she wasn’t certain she could face that person in the mirror once more. Though her ghostly features were definitely reminiscent of her old form, they were translucent enough she could ignore it.

She had managed to avoid the wolf, and all mention of him for many years. Though as he worked closely with his people, rebuilding what knowledge was lost it became ever more difficult. It had not escaped the people’s notice that she appeared in the empire the same time their wolf finally woke from his slumber. They were intelligent enough to assume some sort of connection lay there, much to her chagrin. She occasionally asked his people for news about his efforts, about him, rather than seek him out or spy on him in dreams to see how he was faring. It _probably_ didn’t help matters. People soon sought her out offering information on the wolf in exchange for her advice. How that particular rumor spread she wasn’t sure, yet like wildfires in the wandering hills it caught on. People came to her unlooked-for with little bits of information about the wolf, his progress, his achievements and much to her unending exasperation- his favorite foods, teas, and songs. She wondered at their motivation, yet let them carry on if that was what they wished to give her.

Until one day avoidance no longer was an option. A young man came to her with a message, telling her that she had drawn the wolf’s gaze. That he wished to know why she avoided him all these years. He was apparently growing curious about the rumors he must surely hear, why he woke the day she came to be, why she had asked about him. She told the young man, who waited patiently for her response, that she avoids him because she must, unless the past should repeat itself.

She should have known better than to send a response at all, much less one so baitingly ambiguous. It was not long before the same young man returned. The wolf wished to meet her, he sought her advice. As much as she wished to deny him her presence, for his sake if not her own, she felt she could at the very least hear out his question. After all, most other spirits conversed with him freely in his endless pursuit of knowledge. She needed to not look any different outwardly; to raise suspicion would set people digging for reasons. Reasons needed to stay buried if he was going to live in peace. Besides, she knew very well that denying him would only raise his interest. She didn’t need to become an unhealthy fixation for him once again.

The young man escorted her through several eluvians to an estate perched high on a mountain terrace overlooking a sprawling city in the Dales, _In’hamineth_. The waypoint she called it. That was its old name according to the memories she’d seen of its construction. The dwelling of safe rest, it had started out as a small settlement during the reclamation of the Dirthavaren and quickly bloomed in size as well as beauty as the innate magics of the Elvhen were worked into the war ravaged earth. The estate was large, yet far more modest in her opinion than the large statue of the wolf that once sat here. This must be where he stayed when he wasn’t in the cities, or righting the lesser wilds. For all he had his hands in these days, it was a wonder their paths hadn’t crossed sooner.

The elvhen escort left her outside the entrance to a wild garden, gesturing to where the wolf was surely waiting within. She strode onwards through barely tended plants and towering trees. It seemed this garden was meant to be wild, and she appreciated the lack of order. She braced herself as she rounded the corner that lead to a small paved stone courtyard, thankful she lacked the unbound sentimental influence of those with bodies, sure that the shock of the sight of him would have greatly unsettled the world around her. _He_ was reading quietly in a modest stone chair and if she had breath, it would have been taken away. He’d shaved his head once more, dressed in simple yet elegant styles in tones of earth and leaf. She barely kept the smile from her shifting features when she saw he’d never healed his broken nose, the slight crook in the bridge of it endeared him to her immediately. Fen’Harel wouldn’t have worn such a badge. Though the thought sobered her, why would he keep such a badge? Surely he shouldn’t know what caused it. There should be no reason that he didn’t heal it immediately after she left.

So immersed in his book was he, the serious lines of concentration framing his features, she was able to watch him silently for a time. His lean form wasn't as painfully gaunt as it had been upon waking, a slight sunkissed glow was stubbornly attempting to freckle him. He looked… good. Healthy, perhaps even happy? Perhaps her intent had held.

Her thoughts fled as he finally looked up. “Ah, you must be Elga’revas.” He set down his book as he stood, slightly smoothing out his clothes in a curiously nervous motion. “Thank you for consenting to meet with me.” He gestured to the chair opposite his own, she inclined her head as she moved to sit across from him, regarding him curiously as he sat once more. There was a weight to his gaze, then again that had always been there, hadn't it? The greyed blue of his eyes was bereft of the old turmoil and it put her at a tentative ease to be faced with such scrutiny after so long. All his wealth of focus lay lightly upon her as she tried to think of something appropriate to say. He saved her the trouble, “I will admit to knowing rather little about you, though I have heard you know quite a bit about me.” She allowed a small smile at the statement. “The people seem fixated on paying me in knowledge of you, Wolf. I’m not sure why, but knowledge is knowledge.”

“Please, call me Solas.” She looked at him long. Though his gaze gave nothing away, a small smile curved his lips as he continued. “Surely they have told you something as common as my name.” She nodded reluctantly, speaking softer than she wished, “Very well... Solas…" His name carried on her voice with an ease that was almost appalling for how long it had been since she'd spoken it. "What is it you wished to speak of?”

A raised eyebrow was his initial response. “You have not delved into my thoughts already?”

She kept her expression blank; technically she had once, his question too ambiguous for her liking. “I do not wish to work like that. Words are safer; the darkness that can lurk in the mind knows no bounds.”

~~=~~

It was her voice, he was sure of it. Ancient and muddled as if she was speaking over herself many times again and again. Yet each separate note, they all harmonized _her_. Her features could be mimicked or assumed by any well-meaning spirit that delved into his thoughts. Yet the voice, nothing could replicate how her voice made him feel.

He was certain she would have delved into his thoughts like most spirits were wont to do, wasting no time to get at the heart of the matter. The heart that mattered to him though, had sat across from him, resolutely keeping out of his thoughts. Had she, then she would know that he _knew_ … for better or worse. The careful wording of her reasoning was not lost on him, it _had_ to be her.

“I find myself in need of advice.” He watched her carefully, “There is a woman, I find myself enamored with her, yet I do not know how to proceed.” He didn’t miss the slight grimace on her face as she fought rolling her eyes. The approximation of a resigned sigh as she spoke, “Can you tell me why is it that your people are convinced I’m some expert on love? Freedom is but a small aspect of giving your heart to another.” He chuckled, “I’m afraid I do not know the answer to that, though they are incorrigible gossips.” It brought a warm smile to her features, one he couldn’t help but return. An intangible finger tapped against her chin in thought, he watched enraptured. Even her mannerisms remained the same.

“Have you asked her?”

“No, I have not. I am worried doing so will scare her away.”

She considered for a bit, her gaze lightly mapping his face, “How well do you know this woman? Could you guess what she desires?”

“I knew her very well at one point, though we drifted apart for a time. Her desires may have changed.”

“Then your path forward is clear, get to know her better. Talk to this woman of yours, yet do not pressure her to accept anything she is not ready for. When in doubt set her free, if she desires your companionship she will come to you.”

He nodded solemnly. “What would you know in payment?” A familiar grin lit her face as she considered his question. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” He laughed openly, “How will I know that you do not already know it?” A slightly mischievous smile curved her mouth, “Easy, tell me something no one else knows about you.”

She had gotten quite good at this. He’d never known a spirit of freedom to have such a sharp wit. At least not conventional freedom, she was anything but conventional. He thought long on her request, gazing at fiery yellow glow of her, finally settling on a fact he hoped would not scare her away.

“You are my favorite color.”

It definitely caught her off her guard.

A lyrical laugh spilled startled from her, a chorus of his lover, as though every laugh he could have provoked from her in their long years apart echoed forth at once in a beautiful harmony.

~~=~~

“I… was unaware of that fact. Thank you.”

He inclined his head. She gazed at him, lost in thought for longer than she probably should have been in his presence. She couldn’t tell if he was lying anymore, and it took a certain amount of trust to take his words at face value. It could have just been empty flattery but for the way he stared at her with intent, an unconcealed curiosity on his features, an admiration. When next she focused, he was still watching her.

She hastily rose from her seat. "I should go, I have no doubt you must have other business to attend." He rose as well, "I do not, actually. I would welcome the company if you have nothing pressing to take care of." She hesitated. It would be incredibly unwise to stay, yet her curiosity was running rampant. "I... Oh, very well." She silently cursed herself, slowly sinking back to her seat as he mirrored the movement.

"May I ask you about yourself? You are a curiosity to many. It isn't often that a spirit so closely guarded walks among the people."

"You may ask, though I cannot guarantee an answer. I hope if I do you’ll repay me in kind." She thought for a moment, trying to think of a good show of faith, "This I will give freely- Freedom is often one of the most sought after conquests. If I was not guarded I would not still be what I am."

He hummed thoughtfully, "I suppose that is true." He considered her for a long time. She half expected him to continue to stare as though his eyes alone could reveal her secrets when he finally spoke up again. "Why persist in your current form? Why have you not manifested physically? Surely it would grant you as many freedoms as you may lose in the process."

It was honestly not a question she was expecting so soon. Then again he always was quick to the point. "It would be a different sort of freedom. That is true… Yet, I am reluctant to change in such a manner." _Again_ she thought to herself, adding after a moment, “I am also not sure how I would handle the attention such an act would provoke.”

He chuckled, “So I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?”

“Does my answer count towards…?” She nodded eagerly as he smiled, continuing. “Several prominent members of Elvhen leadership have expressed their interest in you, including two greater council members. Should you assume a physical form, you are right to expect unwanted attention.” She scowled at the confirmation.

“I see. That does not sit well with you at all.”

“No, it does not,” she conceded.

He switched to rather inane questions after that, perhaps he recognized how uncomfortable the topic made her. It felt as though no time passed while they traded questions and answers, though before long the sun was finally casting shadows longer than their own upon the earth. She thanked him for his time and his knowledge. He replied in kind, though he asked if she would return if he needed more advice, stating that she was welcome at his home any time. A sanctuary from the constant pursuits of his people.

She couldn't bring herself to do anything but accept when faced with that hint of hope in his voice.

* * *

She returned to her wanderings for a time. Her thoughts drifting to him more often than she’d liked. There had been a certain sting in his words, to ask her how he should pursue the object of his interest, though she resolutely ignored the ache.

It became more difficult to ignore once the rumors reached her that their wolf had a lover. His people traded gossip that he'd set his sights on a woman, though none knew who she was. That he intended to court her, if she'd consent. It pained her, though it also gave her a small hope. If he could love again then he could heal. Perhaps it was for the best.

The rumors kept her from indulging his request. Though she had wandered his gardens on occasion when she knew he was away. She had no business lingering in his home while he was there if he'd set his sights on another. Though, those weren't the only rumors. Somehow their meeting hadn't gone unnoticed. Elves rife with theories and questions followed her through cities. They were desperate to know their connection. "Did you wake him? Are you the reason he came back to us?" They needed no real advice so she let their questions go unanswered with a sad smile.

Though, _he_ was not content with her absence. The young man returned with another message, unfortunately while she was surrounded by nosey elves. The wolf had asked if she would visit him. She stared long at the messenger that conveyed his wish. The young man looked startlingly familiar. But no, it couldn't be. He asked again for her reply, and she reluctantly consented. Though it was evident that he meant right this minute as the guide enthusiastically beckoned her to follow once more. The ecstatic whispers grew louder as the elves poured over this new development.

He had company this time, a modest celebration it seemed, though none appeared to be the woman of his interest. She was thankful for that small mercy.

“Ah, Elga'revas! I see my friend wasted no time with my message.”

She chuckled lightly, “He was quite insistent, though if you are busy I can return another time.”  
His eyes softened, “No, I would very much like it if you would stay.”

“Very well." She struggled to find something relevant to say under the wealth of stares she was suddenly garnering. Finally settling on her own curiosity, "How goes your pursuit?”

A small smile crinkled his eyes, “She is very stubborn, though I think I've made progress.” She was too occupied with that smile of his to notice the loaded glances the elves in his company gave them.

He politely excused himself from them to approach her. “Would you care to accompany me around the garden?” He lowered his voice “I find myself in need of an escape.” She couldn't help but agree when he put it that way, taking his offered arm with barely a thought, his hand laid lightly over her spectral one. The surprising warmth in his touch not entirely lost on her. Once they were out of sight around a tall hedge she broke the comfortable silence.

“What is the occasion of such celebration?” She wondered lightly.

He turned his gaze on her again, a knowing warmth in his eyes, “The 10,000th child was born just this morning. It is a milestone for the people.” He chuckled shaking his head, “Perhaps now we can finally ease up on the incentives to procreate.”

She regarded him curiously, "Incentives? Does that include the encouragement for spirits to manifest physically?"

“Yes, I argued against the push for it, but I was overruled. The people were too few and our needs too great. It was necessary, yet I did not agree. We had time, we did not need to rush.”

“Well that explains a lot.” She chuckled, “Have you- No, forgive me, that is too personal.”

He smiled at her wryly, “Have I done my part? No, I’ll admit I have not. Though, with the right person I might.”

She nodded solemnly, “The woman you pursue?”

“If she would have me.”

She patted his hand with her free one in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. Trying not to meet his gaze as she tried equally hard neither to think about what he just divulged, nor the wistful yen in his voice as he’d said it.

He continued, “The child was born into the world the same time a spirit of Resilience manifested a form. It bodes well for our people.” Her smile drifted up unbidden, “Yes, it would seem so.”

“I couldn't help but notice you haven't visited.” He nudged her slightly, leading her down a more secluded path towards a great willow tree. "Or at least not while I was home." A knowing grin curved his lips.

So he knew. “Well, you didn't seem to need any advice.” She added after a thought, “Though, yes, I have taken sanctuary at times. The people seemed to have noticed our meeting. Their questions are incessant.”

He chuckled lightly, “I have no question that word will spread. My company is probably already trying to divine what it means to have you visit me.”

She looked up to catch his gaze, finding it already on her, “What _does_ it mean?”

“It means simply that I enjoy your presence.”

If she had breath it would have hitched at the familiarity. Against her better judgement she replied in kind. “Your presence isn't so terrible either.”

A wonderfully breathy laugh escaped him. “I am glad to hear it.”

They walked in a comfortable silence for a time, slowly exploring the more secluded sections of his estate. He didn’t seem to care that he was neglecting his visitors, and she found she didn’t mind being his distraction for the moment. She allowed herself to enjoy it, for how little it would likely last.

“You are much more bound to the physical plane than most spirits I've encountered. You walk as though you are bodily bound, you do not delve into the minds of the people. You do not flit about as most spirits do.”

She nodded. “I could, yet this is more familiar to me.” In the comfort his presence provoked in her the answer had leapt unbidden from her mouth, her free hand rose sharply to take back her words. It was too late. He noticed.

“Then, it is true. You have held a physical form before?”

She stared at him long, the open curiosity there, the unbridled hope. This was dangerous. Yet he wasn't hurting, perhaps it was an innocent interest. Surely such a small detail was safe.

“I have.”

A small smile lit his features at her willingness to answer.

“I think you owe me information for that,” she chided, narrowing her eyes.

He was apparently expecting that eventuality, “What would you know of me?” Gazing up at him a sudden impulse took her, “How did you break your nose? No one has told me that yet.” The soft glow of her form on his features made his responding smile outshine the heavens. “That is a curious thing. My waking was a turmoil of sensation, it was vaguely violent. I get the distinct feeling I deserved this mark somehow. Though I'm not positive I know the truth of its occurrence.” She fell silent. Why did she ask that? Did he know? He had answered that very carefully.

“Perhaps you may know the answer to that already? It's hardly fair for me to tell you what you already know.” She froze as he continued half a beat, before stilling at her side, unperturbed. “I too was once a spirit many, many, ages ago. I was a spirit of Pride before I took on a form. It was once common knowledge though few remember it now.” She couldn't meet his gaze.

“I- didn't know that... thank you.” He pressed his hand over hers more firmly, reassuringly. “I know what it's like. Should you ever wish to assume a form once more, it would be an honor to assist your transition. Though, I will warn you, it can be a very intimate process.”

“That… is a generous offer,” she heard herself say. Not realizing when she had met his gaze again, entranced by it. She missed him far more desperately than she'd realized. It couldn't be allowed to happen, she had to keep her distance, for his sake. “I will consider it.”

“Would you be willing to visit me more often?”

She looked away sharply. This would only lead to roads they shouldn't go down. “I shouldn't, it is unwise for me to linger overlong around those I give advice. Besides you should focus your attentions on your lover.”

“My… what? Lover?”

“The people say you have a lover these days. I assumed the advice I gave you paid off.”

“I have only had one lover Revas. I still love her, even though I doubt she will ever love me, not after what I did to her.”

She gaped at him. He gently let her hand go, taking a half step away from her. The full realization of his questions, her advice hit her. He knew. Somehow he knew. She slowly sank to the ground under the weight of the revelations. He'd asked her advice on how to court _her_ , and she'd told him.

~~=~~

He had not intended to reveal his knowledge in this manner, not so soon- so afraid was he of scaring her off. Yet he couldn't leave her believing he'd loved another. Perhaps his impulsiveness to ask for her advice had backfired. He slowly sat on the ground across from her, watching the torrent of emotion on her shifting features, it felt like a small victory that she did not flee.

“Will you hear me out?”

She met his gaze, a slight nod. It was enough.

He told her what he remembered initially. His room in disarray. His broken nose, pain. He had moved to heal it yet it felt wrong. So he only stemmed the flow of blood. His agents filled him in and he swore them to secrecy on the matter. He only knew that he'd bound a spirit of Freedom and that he'd brought her into waking with him. That he released her so she released him. From what, at the time, he didn't know.

He spoke of the years it took for him to begin to piece the past together. Working with his people to set things right. Compassion found him almost immediately after his first dream. A dream of suffering and hurt, a memory he later learned. It had hurt him to know he'd been capable of such depravity. To hurt someone he had loved so deeply.

Many dreams had passed, helped by Compassion. As he began to understand the picture of events different from what she had made him think, Hope came to him. He'd heard of the spirit of Freedom, what the people called Elga’revas, supposedly _his_ Revas, helping the people. He confessed that he started the notion for them to give her information about him. So she would know how he was doing. With help from Wisdom he grew to forgive himself piece by piece, hoping one day she would forgive him as well.

“I had not intended to mislead you, I assumed you would read my thoughts when we met, you would have known immediately. My request of you was impulsive, I am sorry if it caused you pain.”

She shook her head, focusing on him once more across a great distance. “I... am sorry Solas. I should not have made you forget, but your pain was too much. Your people needed you whole.”

“You did what was best for us both at the time. I cannot fault your reasoning. What you did, made all of this possible. The help I had coming to terms with resurfacing memories allowed me to face what I did, slowly. I had Hope, Compassion, Wisdom, and I am not sorry to say my agents did immediately fill me in despite your request.”

“Bastards.” The scathing tone in her voice made him chuckle. “Perhaps you should have broken their noses instead.” She paused looking slightly mortified, tentatively searching his gaze, “I am truly sorry for that too, though, it does suit you.” His laugh and responding smile seemed to give her hope. She seemed relieved that he wasn’t angry with her. How could he be? If anything she should still be furious with him.

“How much… do you remember?”

His features settled into a rueful smile. “I remember enough to realize it may take me another century to apologize to you sufficiently.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. Redemption arc. 
> 
>  
> 
> 10/8: I think I can split the last chapter in two without it losing cohesion. It'll allow me to elaborate more on the [currently] shorter second half I think- without feeling guilty about a ridiculous word count. Which is good since they'll be 6k a piece. 
> 
> Consider it an apology for the wait. <3
> 
> Speaking of apologies, I apologize in advance- The next chapter is probably full of onions.


	7. The Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light and love can blind, but once one has known the dark- both can be seen for what they are.  
> It takes nothing to repeat the past. It takes courage to change the future.   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [10/9] PSSST: If you haven't swung by in a while, I did a bit of editing to the previous chapters. Mostly centered around the first three. Nothing too major, slight tone shift to better reflect how this looked in my head. (ie. my inexperience was showing.)
> 
> A bit vignette-ish, moments spanning ~2 years, part 1 of 2. [6k? more like 8k. Damnit.]
> 
> It's not perfect, but they're right where they belong.  
> The struggle to write this [was REAL.](https://ma-revas-an.tumblr.com/post/149386762965/romantic-ideas-when-your-vhenan-is-intangible) Seriously, I had to make an entirely new playlist full of lovey instrumentals. I feel like I was tasked with writing about a sun I've never seen. I hope it doesn't read like that.
> 
>  **[Ma'nehn]** = My happiness/joy

He looked so young to her eyes, but something about his expression made him appear far older. It wasn’t pain, nor fatigue… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Light-dappled in green, the shifting cloak of shade made him a sea of muted color. The edge of shadow delineated the soft divide between them as she had inadvertently claimed the sole spot of sunlight. It refracted through her form strangely, amplifying the golden light to cast it freely about the small clearing beneath the willow. Yes, there was something _different_ about Solas, and he waited patiently while her thoughts wove a swift current.

It was perhaps her greatest oversight that she had not truly expected the possibility for the spirits she entreated to watch over him, to also help him find his way back to her. Perhaps she had unconsciously hoped he might, even a small stray hope born of stronger sentiments could significantly change this world, even in her current state. Perhaps she had not grasped the true depth of his feelings despite the bond they had forged. That even a diminished memory of love could lead him back to her... it was a pleasant underestimation. One that overshadowed the small pang of guilt she felt that by allowing him to remember her at all, she'd condemned him to relive everything. Worry suddenly flooded her, dimming her light slightly- that it might only be his need to satisfy atonement that brought him before her... and yet. There was a completely unabashed adoration in his gaze as he sat quietly, adorning her with the entirety of his focus. He looked entirely at peace, neither imposing his thoughts upon her nor burdened by pain. The shifting impressionability of this world would have betrayed that about him immediately. There seemed to be no sharp edges in him, as soft and wild as the garden around them. The openness to his gaze drew her in.

_This was the man that knew Wisdom._

It felt strangely like how she had all those years ago. Suddenly she was faced with the strange mage that spared her from his anchor, the man who had unraveled her secrets, and had unexpectedly kept them to himself. The man who slowly gained her trust, the man that was such a mystery begging to be known- though, she now knew more about him than most anyone living. This man who sat before her was bright once again, not rare moments of optimism- but a wealth of it. And to think, they had been at such odds at first, funny that they had ended up at odds again. And _yet_ , the sight of him had slowly begun to set her heart fluttering. That newness, that tentative hope that she could hold his gaze and keep it settled in around her once more.

_He was truly something else._

As the whirlwind of concern that consumed her began to subside, Solas finally broke their thoughtful silence. "If I asked you to look upon my thoughts, you would decline would you not?"

She offered him a small sad smile with her nod, "I would decline, yes."

His persistent grin turned wry as he spoke the words that firmly settled her mind. "Then I will make every effort to _show_ you how I feel instead." His declaration tugged at her essence and she marveled at the effect it had- that she could feel such a thing without an actual heart. Though had she a heart she was sure it would have stuttered. She made her choice, confident for once that it was the right one.

"I would like that." He tilted his head, hopeful, looking for her elaboration. "I will visit you, more often."

 _Oh, that smile of his._ She watched as he stood, practically beaming at her as he offered his hand to help her up. It was a bit of a silly gesture to one who could float at will, but she took it anyway and didn't let go, tentatively threading her ghostly fingers through his. The physicality of him seemed to anchor her as the light warmth of his presence spread through her. A smile of her own rose on her face as she gazed at their entwined hands, content with the small gesture.

Though, he was apparently _not_.

The gesture grew grander as he extended his hand, lifting hers lightly as if prepared to set it free upon the breeze while he bowed low. “Revas, would you permit me the honor of vying for your heart?”

Her soft gasp was all that broke the stillness for many moments, and she only remembered herself when he cautiously looked up. “You... you actually wish to court me?”

He nodded slightly, speaking more to the grass than her as a highly noticeable bloom of red crept up his ears. “I did not do things appropriately, the first time. I would like the chance to do this properly. To care for _you_ as I should have...”

“ _Oh_ … Solas-” She tugged his hand gently, coaxing him to straighten up to meet that blush worn so nervously, taking on an air of mock formality that was ruined by the indomitable smile in her voice. “Very well. Solas, I permit you to vie for my heart.”

Tangible relief dampened his blush as he offered his arm once again, his quiet confidence restored as she took it. He could have asked her to pick up where they left off, he could have asked her a great deal... but a do-over? Perhaps a chance to start anew was just what they needed.

They finished their walk in a careworn yet almost giddy silence. It was all so new, yet old, each crease and fold was intimately familiar to her fingers. She wondered lightly if this is what it was to be ageless. Despite how much had gone unsaid between them, it did not feel uncomfortable; after all, they finally had time. Solas breathed and the garden breathed with him, it was a quiet celebration in their honor and everything exuded comfort. She couldn't help but keep glancing up at him just to see the smile he wore so well.

Their familiarity hadn't gone unnoticed by his company. She shared a slightly exasperated look with him at the thinly veiled interest the group shot their way. Judging by the flurry of whispers that passed between them it wouldn’t be long before half of Elvhenan knew. And as if to fuel those flames her wicked man faced her and brought her softly glowing fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers as he imparted a small kiss before setting her free once more.

She could have sworn her face glowed brighter, as if her insubstantial form managed to betray the soul deep blush she felt.

~~=~~

She was vibrant and he couldn't help but reflect her light. It hadn't escaped his notice that when he touched her she grew more substantial. That he could touch her and not just approximate, even here, was not unheard of- but rare enough to respect how singular their circumstance was. It was likely part of her nature, her expectation of physicality, and that she had form first- the opposite of their people. There was a subtle warmth to her that sank deep in him, impressions of stones sun-warmed, lingering heat long after dark. It made it difficult to breathe. His eyes never left her, even after he'd let her go. And when she left, his heart went with her. He couldn't stop the wistful sigh carried on a weighted breath that rushed after her, regardless of the fervent whispers of his company. The rumors would likely grow in spite of his indulgence, but to see her smile....

In his preoccupation a man appeared at his right, as subtle as ever. "You could go with her, she wouldn't mind."

He smiled at the confirmation of her stance on the matter, and it was sorely tempting. "Has she recognized you yet? Surely she would not approve of you delving into her thoughts. They are her sole province as she is. I would not wish to intrude."

"She looked through me, but she didn't see. _Impossible it can't be him... That world is long gone. Grey. There is color here._ It hurts, but she remembers. There is color in _her_. She would stay if you asked."

It was something he desired greatly, the knowledge profoundly tested his restraint. But it was important that he let her go, he would not rush this. He would not hurt her this time.

“In time my friend. In time.”

 

**Word spread fast indeed.**

 

It was only a matter of days until next she saw him and already she'd been approached by professional gossip-mongers. It was admittedly strange, being on this side of things, well- stranger than her usual enhanced scale of strange. Even as well-known and respected as she was, he was the one in the position of power- try as he might to step away from it. Yet nothing their nosey people brought to her was negative- they seemed... joyful about this turn of events, just as excited as she felt deep inside.

She'd been wandering through the rebuilt city of Arlathan, and although she harbored little doubt that the sprawling city was far more modest than its predecessor, it was still a sight to behold. Towering white stone threaded through with living wood, great trees the pillars of many buildings. In place of crystals and floating things, this city was much more down to earth, a beautiful opposite to the opulent memories she had seen. She felt she could relate to it, anchored by choice. Perhaps the Elvhen learned from the destruction of their past, that it was too unwise to rely on things that could falter, or perhaps the people were content to avoid such decadence. Either way it gave her hope for the future, after all, it was one of the most populous cities and its people called her there often.

It was a frivolous request that brought her, but those were her favorite. She'd just helped a young girl decide that it was best to set her charge free. The girl's mother had sought her out, to help teach her _da’len_ the lesson of letting go. They'd taken in a small bird that had been injured, now long since healed. She sat with the young girl who was far more excited to be visited by a spirit than sad at the prospect of letting her friend go. She suspected the girl’s mother knew her presence would ease things, yet it didn't bother her.

Yet how even the little girl knew about _'Pride and Freedom'_... with that entirely embarrassing song about kissing in trees... leading to _'other'_ far more forward things, she didn't stick around long enough to find out. The infernal song had settled in her heart by the time she wandered into one of the communal dining halls, pointedly frustrated every time she caught herself humming it.

It was a peculiar habit of hers, lingering in the halls. And it had not gone unnoticed by the people. Truthfully she really missed food, the delight that could be found in eating, and most of all the companionship of sharing a meal with others. She would content herself to watch from a vacant table tucked away in a corner as elves of various professions mingled. Their mirth always cheered her without fail, bringing forth old memories that slowly stung less and less to recall. And though she was no stranger to having an odd elf or two decide to join her, the man who sidled up to her table with a full tray managed to surprise her.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Solas!” She couldn't help the silly grin that engulfed her. “Oh, no- _Please_ , join me.”

She watched as he gracefully settled himself across from her, glad to see that the smile he wore last she saw him persisting, even reaching as deep as his voice, “I heard you liked to frequent this hall more than the others.”

She chuckled, “Ah _yes_. Strange habit for a spirit,” her words promptly validated by a spirit of Curiosity floating over the tables with its darkened twin- _Mischief_ , occasionally flitting intrusively close to the face of an elf or two. “Though, _apparently_ I'm not the only one with the fascination.”

She glanced at him, and then to his tray, sparing only a moment for the curious look on his face as his fork halted in midair. “Let me guess, raspberry tart, spiced apple chamomile tea, and hmmm a vanilla soufflé with a touch of cinnamon.”

“…How?” His surprise turned to a rueful awareness as he shook his head with a slight smirk.

"Yes, they were _that_ thorough." She tried to stifle a laugh and failed.

"Apparently I did not think that one through as well as I thought."

"No-" she chuckled "I imagine not."

He resumed his meal and she grew wistful watching the careful precision with which he ate. Each bite was carefully portioned, expertly speared, disappearing behind his lips without so much as the drag of teeth on metal. Small involuntary noises of pleasure carried on his breath. It was a fascinating area of study though it ended as he noticed her rapt attention, "I apologize, I did not come to see you just to mock you." She laughed his concerns away with a dismissive wave. "I did not take it as such, I just miss it." Her smile sobered as she studied his face, _oh…_ there were more freckles than she remembered. _Charming._ "I miss a great many things."

_It was his turn to look wistful._

An elbow sank through the table as she settled her chin in her hands, quickly correcting it before his small smirk could turn into a broader amusement that seemed to be infectious between them. "What is it like to manifest physically? What does it entail? I'll admit- though I've watched it happen before... I've never asked what it feels like."

His blatantly open honesty caught her by surprise, "It feels..." his thoughtful look slid into a sad smile, "It _feels_. It is a rush of sensation. Your body responding to stimulus all at once, it is often overwhelming. Think of what you can feel now, and remember back to what you could feel then. You have the advantage of knowing what to expect. It is why traditionally, we encourage help to cross over. A spirit manifesting alone could do great damage to themselves and others while mired in that sensory overload." He sighed quietly, setting down his fork. "Though, it does put the spirit at the mercy of the one that grounds them." Her widening eyes gave away her fear, one he was quick to wave away, "It is nothing sinister, Revas. It is... remarkably difficult to explain. Just know that it can be intimate and it can leave impressions.

 _Oh._ Her smile grew as a piece of his mystery suddenly fell into place. "Mythal?" His smile deepened in sadness, "Mythal."

"She was young then, yet still ancient by your reckoning. She was ever a voice of reason. I'll admit I did not truly wish to manifest physically and I was not the easiest spirit to guide, and though I took well to having a body- I immediately endeavored to embarrass myself."

She laughed as his brows knit in an unconscious scowl, " _Oh?_ In what way?"

"I may have tried to kiss her. She let me down gently- it was but a moment of impulsiveness." His face colored slightly in exasperation. "Elgar'nan was not entirely pleased, and he never let me forget it."

Her stifled laugh broke free with a snort. "So I can expect to embarrass myself?"

His gaze turned serious, his words quiet, "You are considering taking a form?"

 _Oh, it was so comfortable to talk with him like this-_ she had let that slip without even a thought. She sat up, wringing her hands. There was little use in denying it. "I- yes. I am... _well_ , considering it. I... Don't know when I'll be ready. But I would like it, if you would…” Her gaze lifted to his as she started again, “I would like it if you would help me manifest physically, when the time comes.”

He drew a quiet breath.

That admission was likely to set that smile of his fixed to his face for the rest of the day. At length he finally spoke, "To answer your question, _yes_. It is likely you will embarrass yourself. I am honored you would choose to embarrass yourself with me."

They were drawing stares as her light laugh echoed over the din, and before long a hush fell over the hall. No one had ever heard the embodiment of Freedom laugh in such a manner, and no one had ever seen Pride smile like that and mean it.

He stood, offering his hand and she took it- drawing confidence from his strength as they walked the length of the hall amid the blatant curiosity of all. Thankful that neither Curiosity itself nor it’s darkened mate followed.

 

**None of their combined steps went unnoticed by the people.**

 

They agreed to meet in such a fashion as they were both often called to the city. Him trading news of the empire and of his work with the council, her guessing his meals and talking of those she had helped that day. They settled into a comfortable routine, saving the heavier topics for when she escorted him home to spend the night in his company.

That had been a particularly nerve-wracking request to make. As esoteric as time was once again, he imagined sleep was objectively stranger for her to understand. It was not as dire a necessity, though no one could escape it forever. Only children slept nightly, needing less and less rest as they matured. Sleep was more closely considered a recreation, an adventure, a creative exercise, especially for a dreamer. Regardless, he did not intend to sleep _with_ her, or even _near_ her so soon. Dreams were a step they were not ready to take. A step _he_ was not ready to take. He simply intended to indulge in her company when he deigned to stay awake, to spend the hours that normally troubled him in the peace of her presence.

He had worried she would decline, worried she would think it too forward- after all it _was_ rather forward of him. It was simply difficult at times to refrain from falling into their old molds, where his hand fit hers. Her hands were different now. Yet, despite the blood his had spilled, she still willingly accepted his outstretched hand, sliding her fingers between his as he led her to his home, living magelights, wisps of joy drawn to the song in his heart bobbed about to light their path.

He led her through his estate as he had many times before, weaving a slight spell for light to emanate from the walls as they made their way up the staircase to his chambers. His home stood largely open, most rooms leaving at least one wall exposed to one of the many sections of the gardens that engulfed the grounds. His room was no exception, dominating much of the top floor- his quarters were open to the south with a long balcony. He was proud of his sanctuary. It had taken many years of work to make it what it was, and many years more to feel comfortable living in such a static place. He'd been a wanderer for too long.

It felt good to dare to call this place home.

Books lay strewn all over. At least one lay open on nearly every flat surface, each table, the couches, his unused bed- and several had surely made their way out into his labyrinth of a garden. It was curiously difficult to keep track of them even despite his attempts to return them to their proper places. Likely an effect of the wild magic he worked into the garden bleeding into his home, or so he explained away to her. It was entirely possible he was simply less organized than he once was. It wasn't the only difference- Few furs or pelts adorned his furniture, largely in favor of supple thickly woven fabrics. It was rarely cold in the Dirthavaren, and one rarely experienced cold unless willing to, or if greater forces were at work. Though, he had obvious reasons of his own for the preference. Revas had winsomely expressed her approval of his home, its furnishings, and he was glad to have it. Comfortable as she might be in his presence he knew she still watched sharply for signs of the Wolf. He’d been honest with her months ago, it had been a part of him for so long it was unlikely to ever leave him completely, but it was a piece that was no longer needed. Not in this world.

He meticulously tended his tea over the hearth while she wandered his room, quietly observing the movements of his books since her last stay. Moving surface to surface, hands clasped behind her back, leaning in to discern the subject matter without disturbing the pages- as if her influence would change the results. He had not realized just how long the slight grin had been on his face as he watched her until she drew attention to it with one of her own. He couldn't help but chuckle quietly as she promptly recanted her running list of which books had moved where, and whether or not she thought it correlated to the spells he cast in the garden. He was beginning to regret that excuse and he suspected she was well aware.

She followed him brightly as he meandered to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, settling down with his tea in the solitary wooden chair as Revas promptly claimed the matching table for herself. He had offered to make a chair for her, to grab one from elsewhere, but she always waved off the attempt- stating she _didn't need a chair when there was a perfectly good table_. Perhaps it was his fault for not pushing the issue- It was likely selfish, though he was never sure if it was on his part or hers. She may have always _started out_ perched on his table as they traded stories and memories, but inevitably she wound up inching closer, slowly advancing to end up on his lap instead. He could not bring himself to dissuade her.

"I heard the most curious tale from a scribe today." She paused to resettle herself more comfortably, and he watched her nudge closer, "They said all the statues of wolves in the Dirthavaren disappeared in a single night many years ago. Most notably... the rather large one that used to sit _here_ , on this very plateau." He cocked an eyebrow, waiting patiently for her to continue as she leaned in, now several inches closer. "He _said_ that there were no witnesses, neither elf nor spirit. And any spirit questioned about the missing wolves refused to impart knowledge of what may have caused it."

He feigned ignorance and a distantly polite interest as he sipped his tea, shaking his head with an involuntary shiver- _not enough honey._ "Oh? Now that is a curious rumor. It is rare that such a mystery would escape my notice."

Her mockingly serious expression cracked first and his followed swiftly, settling into a warm smile.

"Will you tell me about it?"

He nodded as she finally slid off the edge of the table to his lap, drawing in close to rest against him. He set his cup aside to wrap an arm about her. Absently tracing shapes in trails of light across the delicate surface of her form as he began, "It was a few decades ago. After I had gained a much better understanding of what I had done. It had been a rough year-" He gently waved away her growing apology. "No, it was a hardship I made for myself."

"I had been working all across the Dales. Still a few years before I built this place. You know how damaged this land was. Well, at the time it felt as though healing the wounds here would help heal my own. This is where I lost Wisdom, in more ways than one." He sighed lightly before continuing, quieter, "Day after day under those disdainful stone stares, the reminder of what I was, the silent accusation... I... _Snapped_. That night I had enough of the wolf at my back. I'm not sorry to say _I_ destroyed them all. Losing what little they offered the people as a reminder, as history, was the smallest price I've yet paid and the effort spent was well worth it. Dust that will never again hope to be stone. It was... _cathartic_."

"It must have been quite a sight."

He chuckled, "I imagine it was. A shame no one witnessed it."

"How _did_ you convince the spirits in the region to keep quiet about it?"

"I asked nicely."

She rolled her eyes with such effort that the movement echoed through her, "I know for a fact there is at least one spirit of Pride out there that claims you bribed them."

"Ah yes. That is also considered _'asking nicely'._ " He frowned pointedly, catching her slip, "Apparently I did not do well enough if they divulged my name at all."

A slow mischievous grin spread across her softly glowing form, and he held her gaze with all the adoration in his- watching as what was likely to be a sharp retort fade before it reached her lips, her eyes softened into something wondrous to behold. Minute movements shifted her gaze with the heavenly precision of the stars, forward and back, slowly moving down the page of his face. She scowled slightly as his smile deepened to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

_She was counting his freckles._

He caught her in the act _often_ \- as she was far from subtle. It was endearing, but he refused to make it easy on her, inevitably subverting her attempt until her patience diminished and she grew frustrated with him. It did not usually take long.

~~=~~

Her annoyance waned into pointed recollections, memory and rumor. The distant light of the stars above kept time to themselves leaving none to share as their nights spent in delicate balance of give and take, stood still.

He'd forsaken his wolfish mantle more thoroughly than she expected, all that remained was his roguish humor. She had suspected for many years he had been responsible for the disappearance of the stone sentinels of the Dirth, but to finally hear it from him- with a hint of amusement in his voice… It was heartening. The weight of his years no longer hung so heavily about her serious scholar. There was a light in his heart, his smiles came easier than she'd ever seen. It was easy to open up to him, easy to fall in beside him as he walked with her. Jokes and observations flowed freely. This was who he should be, and she couldn't help but love him for it.

But she could wait.

Despite how easy it was to find herself drawn into his careful embraces, she was in no rush.

She felt linked to this man, deeper than any bond that could be forsaken. Perhaps some lingering piece of him remained after he'd set her free, perhaps it was something older, some relic of a long gone world.

Perhaps she just _really_ needed to know how many new freckles he wore.

 

**They both agreed to take things slowly, they had time.**

 

Solas seldom sent his messenger since his declaration, deigning to seek her out himself. It was… a little unexpected, but not at all unwelcome. This time she'd been wandering through the edges of the cultivated Dales, leagues from the cities and settlements, a small respite to gather her thoughts.

The towering Frostbacks dominated the horizon, looming over the rolling hills. But not in oppression, more like that of a doting parent waiting with anticipation to see what wonder their offspring would perform next. A century was not long enough to get used to the strange impressions this world gave off at times. Wandering down any tree-lined lane in Elvhenan could take months if one wasn’t paying attention, mired in memories as fleeting and as numerous as the light filtering through the leaves. It was easy to get carried away here.

She often lost track of time in such wanderings. When she was alone without anything in particular to hold her attention the world moved slowly around her, it was so unlike when she would walk through dreaming, everything there was weightless and swift, including her. Yet here- she felt anchored, she was beginning to feel more... _More real._

The only time she had seen Solas angry was when she had accidentally let such wording slip in his presence. To which he'd _immediately_ retorted that she was real, that _‘just because she bore no earthly form, did not make her any less a person’._ It was a strange thing to hear. _A confusing thing to hear._ He'd once thought her not a person, yet then she'd felt like one... but _now_... at times it was hard to hold onto herself. When she felt like this a long wander usually put things in perspective.

She'd been lying on the bank of a wide lazy river, welcoming waving grasses almost the same golden hue as her form arched over her to bracket the deep blue of the sky. It was a small cathedral to her worship of the world. The world that hurt less as time went on.

Here was where she thought of _them_ , those who had been lost, those she couldn't save. Reliving their lives in her small temple, knowing it couldn’t make up for their loss... but even _she_ now knew it had been necessary. The Blight wouldn’t have ended with the Archdemons- a product of the Void that seeped into the world and the Fade- the construction of the Veil had inadvertently made its cure impossible. It was little use to think of other ways, what-if’s and could-have-been’s, remembering the people who touched her life was what mattered to her. And it was the small things that made her smile-

Varric's laugh when he told a joke that was far funnier to him than to anyone else. The over the top grimace Sera would make when they behaved too ‘elfy’ and the obscene sounds she made at any show of affection in her vicinity. The way Vivienne could utterly destroy a person without lifting a finger, deftly cutting with words, the slightest wink sent her way as the Iron Lady's match retreated. The loaded look Dorian gave Bull when he thought no one was looking, strangely sweet and absent of all bravado. The blatant love Bull wore for the man that was always followed by far too much information for anyone to have about their escapades. The subtle smile Cassandra donned with her blush while pretending to not read Varric's novels, and the quiet faith and wealth of passion she embodied until the end. The way Blackwall could make Josephine forget her wealth of words with a lily, and the way the bear of a man always turned into a kitten when he spoke of her. The smile Cullen would stifle as he walked the battlements, free of lyrium, pride in its place at all he had accomplished. The quiet confidence that had emerged in Leliana, the care she had shown her scouts, the small peaceful smile she wore as the sun rose, sipping her tea. Tea that always bore honey… She thought of Cole then- she had no idea what became of the spirit boy. Of all the fates she had discovered through memory, his was lost to her, and she hoped he had not ended with her world.

She lay in absence for a time unknown, sifting through the memories of the lost. She had even seen Solas- and _herself_. It was still painful to behold. _So laden with wounds, so laden with hurt._ Yet distance had freed her of the burden, of the pain. She had failed, but they still lived if one knew where to look.

Careful steps caught her notice, pulled her from her half-step in the Fade, grasses rustled in more than just the breeze, parting before the approaching elf. A familiar shadow fell over her as she looked up, the sun haloed him, yet he stood not with the stature of a god- the sun as a crown, but humble in a way she had missed, and the light adorned him willingly. He was the torch that drew her from the dark.

"I thought I might find you here."

She chuckled in a light chorus, if ever there was a thing to say _in the middle of nowhere._ "Have I been here that long?"

“Long enough for me to miss you. Though, that is perhaps an unreliable measurement of any length of time.” Solas' swift smile ignited hers. He always had such a way with words... but that did not mean she would make it easy on him. She stifled her expression, sitting up to affect command of her temple as she stared him down- even though the fact he was still standing over her largely ruined the effect. "Who informed on me this time?"

A curtain of aloof pensiveness fell to veil his smirk as he brought his fingers to his chin in thought, tapping absently, "I may tell you who, _If_ you permit me to join you."

She drew herself up, haughty, "Oh? One of the people wishes to enter my esteemed temple?" His immediate blatant look of amusement as he pointedly glanced at the 'temple' then back to her quickly unraveled her farce. Her affected grace crumbled as she laughed, "Oh alright, you did come all this way." She slid to make room as he bowed beneath the vaulted grass ceiling, sinking down next to her to sit cross-legged, shrugging off his pack. No longer sun-blinded, she could take in his presence. He was dressed lightly for travel- the nearest eluvian was surely a few leagues away. Barefoot, tightly woven leggings clung to his lean thighs. A light sleeveless tunic bared his arms, freckles beginning to trail down his biceps- it was perhaps the smallest change time wrought upon the man. And she found herself wishing to see where else they led. A loaded expression settled on his face, amusement tinged with a restrained need. Her leading gaze had not gone unnoticed.

He leaned in close, his nose nudging the shell of her intangible ear and the slight sensation of it stilled her as he whispered his answer, "Compassion told me. And _Faith_ , Vigilance, Valor, Compromise, Tenacity, _Mischief_ -" He gently pulled her into his lap, "Hope, Passion, Ambition, and Glory.

She turned to meet his soft gaze, staring at him in unabashed disbelief. _Did he mean what she thought he did? Could he be serious?_ "Why so many?"

Forehead pressed to hers- he leaned in, the slight pressure against her form displaced light in a ripple that washed over her with understanding as he answered. “They still exist, Ma’nehn. It was not something I had anticipated, but it appears your waking woke more than _I_.”

“The more you remember, the more they are.”

 

**And time it took. But he would not rush.**

 

Someone searched for her, called out to her. She could feel it. Knives scoring living wood, _gouging_ , the call grew tremulous, _shaking_. Something was wrong. Insistence, fear, _pain_ \- they tugged at her name. Nothing had ever called to her like this. Rarely had she ever used her nature to its fullest extent, stepping through dreams to change her place in waking, largely preferring to travel mundanely- _she used it now_. The voice pulled with new urgency and she closed her eyes, following its call, grounding herself for what could possibly be so dire. She opened her eyes to a moonlit courtyard.

_Fear._

Their influence was obvious in the blackened chasms that marred the garden. _His garden_ \- **_NO_.**

 _"I can't get close_ , he hurts twists and burns, thinks he doesn't deserve kindness, _compassion_. I can't touch him but _you_ can! _Please!"_

She turned to the voice. Her gaze fell to the distraught young man wringing his hands before her, the messenger? His voice, something about that voice... _pleading_. Could it be?

"Cole? Is that... Is that really _you_?"  
"He _needs_ you!"

 _“Solas-”_ She snapped from her shock to bolt across the garden, phasing through tree after hedge. Shifting as a lone ray of light, a star falling through the dark, she dodged the gaping maws of terror, sidestepped its long undulating reach. The taste in the air permeated even her form, the acrid tang of bile, the hint of predatory sloth, almost comforting once it hooked its jaws in you, drained you of all your terrors. She knew this fear well, and this one would not harm her. It had held her as she died, as the disintegration of the veil burned her form. It had responded to her search for wisdom, to know the truth. It showed her the fates of all she asked after. It had held them all.

_Except Solas._

No, it would not harm her, but it could kill _him_.

The low level hiss that permeated the grounds had grown to a near defending crescendo as she stood before the main entrance of his home, _it was here_. She leapt up to the balcony, her way forward barred by a darkened barrier of liquid smoke... The moonlight filtered through it, casting a bleak pall over his room… over him. Solas was on his knees in the middle of the floor, alone, staring blankly down at his hands. He seemed… _awake?_ Was this not the product of a nightmare?

**"Curious is it not? Pride _asked_ me to come. _Pride! Of all creatures-_ He carried a desperate _need_ to see, to understand. How could _I_ deny such manners?"**

The unctuous voice of this particular brand of fear oozed down her neck, words felt more than heard. It wasn't something she ever hoped to get used to- but it was no demon, so long as she didn't see it as one. Simply an unpleasant _aspect_.

 _"Please..._ let him go."

Dread’s shadow manifested across the barrier, the vague form of a lanky creature, limbs of twisting smoke too long to be considered natural, it’s many coldly glowing eyes narrowed to slits. **"Oh you _again_ , I _remember_. Burned like _so_ many others, _his_ doing. _Asker-of-questions, seeker-of-ends._ Yet, you've returned to _him_? The _one-who-ends?_ Now that _is_ interesting. Why do they all do that?”** Dread drew closer, a single long fingered hand gesturing for her to mirror its steps as it began to walk the liquid wall between them. She haltingly obliged, keeping an eye on Solas as the spirit stared down at her, sizing her up. **“Tell me, do you always love the ones who hurt you the most? Or do you simply have a knack for hurting the ones you love? I have seen it _all_ mind you. It is the most delectable end, _ahhhh_ betrayal of the heart. Perhaps one day you will die with me again, and perhaps he will be the one to kill you. I do love it when mistakes repeat.” ** The spirit paused to squint at her with a long rattling hiss. **“Ah, but you are too bright now. I liked you better then, small, fragile- _darkened_.”**

She shifted to the side to keep Solas in view, but Dread only moved with her to block her sight. It was prideful in it’s own right and it seemed it would not suffer anything less than her undivided attention. _So be it._ “We hurt each other. What would you have me do? Continue the cycle of pain?” She scoffed lightly, “ _Of course_ that is what you would have me do. No, I was ready to let him go.” She quenched her light, stepping forward as a shade of herself, hands raised inches from the barrier, beseeching. “I’ve chosen to fix it instead. Please, let him go.”

 **"Such manners! How _polite_ you two are. You fear I will harm _him?_ Oh my _dear_ … How could _I_ harm one who has given me _so_ much?”** The spirit scoffed at her, a small plume of ash falling from its fleeting gash of a mouth. **“He was simply not ready to know. They _never_ are. _You_ weren't.”**

"No one is ready to die, either. He is in pain- Please give him back to me."

Dread stared at her at length. Eyes squinting to focus on her, _through_ her.  
**"You could have forced me to leave."**

She nodded slowly.

Dread backed down its posturing, resuming its loping grace. **"Oh _fine_. Only because you asked so… _sweetly_. I have already imparted what he asked for... I was simply, _basking_ … in the result. I will wait. He may have slowed my feast, but there is always another war just beyond the _end_... of peace."**

It slunk through the barrier, dispelling it on contact, pointedly engulfing her, its wicked grin grazing her cheek before it slipped over the balustrade of the balcony. Its form, its influence in the garden evaporated in the moonlight, drifting upward like ash caught in the flames. She shivered and just like that it was gone.

"Solas?"

She turned back at the voice to see that the young man appeared at Solas' side, hands bracing his shoulders, leaned in to almost embrace him. He was unquestionably a manifestation of Compassion, though whether the man still identified as Cole was yet to be seen. His ears were pointed, his face not so young, his voice not so wavering, long brilliant yellow hair spilled down his back in an intricate braid. It seemed the spirit had grown up after all. Varric would be proud.  

_The thought stabbed at her with unexpected potency._

Still darkened, little more than a shade herself in the moonlight- she lingered on the balcony. Solas was free and she no longer felt needed, but worse- this did not seem to be her place. It felt like this was somehow all _her_ fault. But then, Dread was right about one thing, it would take nothing to assume and assign blame, to continue the mistakes of their past. It would take nothing to walk away now, to set him free again. She would simply need to give up her heart to do it. Would that hurt him less than if she stayed? What if she made a mistake? What if this _was_ the mistake? She bit her lip, wishing there had been pain to ground her, forcing herself to remain still. If she took a step back now, she would never stop running. This needed to be his decision, not hers.

Solas finally stirred from his thoughts, looked up wearily over Compassion’s shoulder. His eyes, so full of pain that they had overflowed to line his face in grief, met hers and her form reignited without so much as a thought of her own. Cast in a soft amber light, she chased away the lingering chill of what had come before. She slowly traversed his room, surveying the turmoil she couldn't notice before in his peril. The couch had been recently slept on, blankets in disarray, the hearth had gone out. He shivered, bare-chested and only wearing a pair of loose fitting pants.

It was an uncomfortable parallel but she walked into it willingly. If this could change, there was still hope for them both.

He reached past Compassion for her, and she fell to him. The young man relinquished Pride to her, cracked and shaking- she sensed that she was all there was that kept him together. So she made sure she did, shifting to his lap, wrapping her arms around him. Solas clung tightly to her, and she briefly wondered that he could do so. Had anyone else clutched her in such a manner they would have long since phased through her- whether she willed it or not.

She spoke softly as Solas buried his face against her neck, "Cole, could you relight the hearth, and then-"

"-Boil water for tea. Chamomile and honey. _Yes._ "

 _Well_ , he still answered to ‘Cole’ it seemed. It brought the smallest of smiles to her face as she thanked him quietly. Though, it was short-lived once Solas finally spoke.

"Is this real?" He swallowed thickly before continuing, _pleading_ with a slight catch in his throat, "Revas, please tell me if this is real. I cannot trust myself to know.”

She shot a grave look to Cole before answering, “This is _real_ Solas. This is real because I believe it is.” _It was not a great answer, but it was all that had saved her once._ She smoothed her hands in long strokes down the back of his neck, trying to be the calm she couldn’t feel. “You must believe it too. If you question this now then it will never be enough. Uncertainty will destroy you."

The ensuing silence hung for several frantic beats of his heart… it shattered with the wretched cry that tore shuddering from his throat. It was nearly her ruination, the anguished sound echoed strangely through her in a way that nearly moved her to join his agony. It _hurt_ , it _stabbed_ and it _struck_ her then that despite all her efforts, she had only postponed _this_. He sobbed almost imperceptibly against her, and she was lost in his desperate grasp, worried that had been the wrong answer. Worried she might manifest accidentally in the midst of this upheaval, she sent panicked looks to Cole, who only shook his head, lightly motioning for her to continue.

So she did.

She talked, rambled really- slowly picking up his pieces, attempting to fit them back together, blurting out anything that came to mind through the shakes of his form that shook her world. She spoke of their lives together until the grief and uncertainty left her own voice, replaced by the warmth of their memories. She spoke until the tremors gradually ceased, until his hold loosened and his breathing quieted. She recanted the long troubled love of their lives until he answered-

"I… _remember_."

She managed to coax him back to his couch with the help of Compassion. Solas sat silently, gazing pensively at the now roaring fire, and refused to be parted with her, so she stayed- Quietly adoring his noticeable grimace each time he lost contact with her form. Or perhaps it was simply that the tea was not to his liking. It would require further testing, but for now she was content to linger at his side, propped up against him, waiting for him to divulge what had taken place, what it was he had dreamed of to cause this.

Only when the sun was finally on the rise, casting his room in soft yellow hues, only when Cole had long been dozing curled up in an armchair, lightly snoring, did Solas finally speak of the night in hushed tones.

He had dreamed of her death, woken disoriented and weighed down with guilt, and in such depth of fear and self-loathing asked the only spirit who knew to show him what had happened. A spirit that had pained him greatly over the years, a spirit that would never let him forget the cost of his mistakes. The very spirit born of those he had failed- Their Dread as the Veil rose to bring them low, their fear of days suddenly numbered, their terror in the wake of everything they had ever known being severed from them in an instant. The spirit that had fed equally well on his efforts to reverse that mistake- _Solas never won._

She closed her eyes for a moment as he finished his brief tale. Another piece fell into place. It seemed even after all this time she still had much to learn about him. Her attention promptly snapped back to Solas- the reserved scholar had returned in his careful tone.

"Why did you forgive me?" He turned to her with something worse than pain in his eyes... _a worrying wealth of doubt._ "I willingly threw your life away. You cried out for me… I-” He took a deep steadying breath. “I ignored your call.”

She approximated a long sigh. Dread had done a number on him, dredging up things she had long let go. Reaching up to caress his cheek, she attempted to will the lines of concern from his brow. "If you had explained what was at stake, if you had told me what would have happened should the Veil remain... Oh _Solas_ , do you really think I would have stood in your way? Yes, I wish things had gone differently. No, I do not approve of what you did. I wish you had let me in, given me a chance to find another way. But… I do not regret this existence. Nor do I regret this second chance.”

He wasn't convinced, his slight scowl only growing as she chuckled. "I simply wanted to save what I could _Vhenan'ara_..." He drew in a quick breath and promptly lost his hold on it, slightly gaping at her as he forgot to breathe. It was rare to see him struck so speechless. She raptly watched the softening of his shock as she finished her thought.

"...Even you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Ma'nehn]** = My happiness/joy 
> 
> Oh look, I'm not dead! I've got a terrible fucking cold though. UGH. 
> 
> Revas - [New Soul - Yael Naim](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhE7QMXRE1g)  
> Solas - [Do you remember - Jack Johnson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Y5kxOGhqrw).  
> Both - [You and I - Ingrid Michaelson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdEN1b-dwlw).
> 
>    
> I've read this like 200 times, and there's probably at least half as many errors I'll have to fix later. I swear, they don't exist until I hit submit. Like Schrödinger's errors or something. The errors exist in a state of quantum flux until let out.
> 
> This was going to be the last chapter but it went really long, so I split it in two. 
> 
> Ok. I swear I am not symbolically setting this on fire. So it'll be ending plus one. The next chapter is an ending, and the chapter after that is another ending. It's not one or the other, or alternates. It's where you choose to stop, and both are perfectly valid.
> 
>  
> 
> **4/27/18 - It's been an age. I think I have what I need to pick this back up and truly finish it once and for all.**


End file.
